


Take Me Down to the Very Root of My Soul

by zerodaryls



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Cries a Lot, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Needs a Hug (Good Omens), Aziraphale Whump (Good Omens), Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Body Dysphoria, Body Horror, Bondage via Temporary Paralyzation, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Sweetheart (Good Omens), Crying, Cunnilingus, First Kiss, First Time, God Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Hand Jobs, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Light Bondage, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love, Making an Effort (Good Omens), Mutual Masturbation, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Oral Sex, Other, Pain, Penis In Vagina Sex, Post-Episode: Good Omens: Lockdown, Praise Kink, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Rough Sex, Sex with Snake Form Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Aziraphale (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Snenanigans (snek shenanigans), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Sort Of, Traumatized Aziraphale (Good Omens), Virgin Aziraphale (Good Omens), Virgin Crowley (Good Omens), Vomiting, Wing Grooming, Wings, mild blood kink, these two bastards are so fucking kinky idek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 63,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24524137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerodaryls/pseuds/zerodaryls
Summary: During the lockdown, Aziraphale comes to realize the extent of his feelings for Crowley. And suffers the consequences.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 76
Kudos: 260





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a lyric taken from the Erasure song ["You Surround Me"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZOYpRNymwss). It's been in my Crowley/Aziraphale playlist for ages because I am a Master of Projection when it comes to making every song apply to my faves, thankyouverymuch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *already has 3+ WIPs I'm barely keeping up with*  
> Me to Me: start another one. and make it _painful_.  
> 
> 
> I am so sorry, Aziraphale. :/

_“Goodnight, angel.”_

“Hmm, yes. Goodnight, then. Rest well.” Aziraphale smiled as he hung up the phone, though his lips were traced with a tinge of sadness. He hadn’t _wanted_ to shoot down Crowley’s idea of joining him. If Aziraphale got his way, he’d have had the two of them spending the entire lockdown together. He got on well enough without the demon, of course; they’d spent centuries apart before. But that was _before–_ and even then it had caused him no small amount of heartache to keep away from his dearest (and indeed perhaps only) friend. Now that nothing stood between them and each other, Aziraphale found it more difficult than ever to be away from him for an extended period of time.

“Oh, to hell with this lockdown,” he exclaimed mournfully after finishing his glass of wine at his desk and watching the sunlight fade into darkness beyond the windows. He’d been writing Crowley a letter before he gave in to the temptation to phone him. It’d been too long since he’d heard his voice. But then the call had ended and he was back where he started, staring the paper down with a tipsy gaze.

He hadn’t gotten very far in the letter. Alright, he’d only gotten so far as addressing it to Crowley. But things of this nature were difficult! Delicate, even.

It wasn’t a love note per se. Well, he hadn’t written it yet. But he knew what he wanted to convey. He just didn’t… know how to word it. All this time alone as a result of the pandemic prompted Aziraphale to take a long, hard look at where he stood with Crowley, and where he wanted to stand, and how close they would be, and if perhaps they could latch onto each other, somehow. Link arms, hold hands, press mouths… tongues? That would certainly be interesting… Aziraphale shook himself out of his half-drunk thoughts and refocused his attention on the blank letter in front of him.

Just how exactly _do_ you tell your oldest and dearest friend that you’ve fallen for them? How do you put into words on a single sheet of paper that you are unequivocally, irreversibly, entirely _consumed_ with love for them? He didn’t want to come on too strong, see. Especially if Crowley didn’t feel the same way. Now that they’d chosen their own side, they were all each other had. All they ever had all along, really. And Aziraphale couldn’t bear the thought of losing Crowley because he had to go and find himself feeling things that the demon didn’t or possibly couldn’t feel in return. How do you tell someone that you’d happily take whatever sort of closeness you could from them, but that you’re brimming with affection and on the brink of _begging_ for permission to shower them in it?

He wasn’t sure how Crowley would respond to such a confession. Oh, he knew he cared for him, certainly. He knew he valued him. He even believed Crowley loved him, he just wasn’t sure what that love entailed. Some sort of closeness was desired, clearly. Crowley had practically _begged_ him to run off with him. Twice! To leave the world they knew behind and start a new life together in the stars… Aziraphale sighed.

He’d decided that if he had to do it over again, and was faced with a choice between stopping Armageddon but losing Crowley forever, or keeping Crowley but watching the Earth go up in flames, he’d choose Crowley. It wasn’t even a contest, really. It might’ve once been, but no more.

Aziraphale then came to the startling realization that this wonderfully wily serpent had slithered his way into the angel’s heart so smoothly, so subtly, that, when he wasn’t looking, Crowley’d somehow managed to become the most important thing in his life.

Indeed, the demon had become more precious to him than anything else he could name. Books, food, music, all the greatest and most clever creations of the beings he’d been put on Earth to protect. “More important than creation, itself,” Aziraphale mused aloud, somewhat absently. “More…” he sucked in a breath and was startled to feel tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “More dear to me than the Almighty, even,” he said, lips trembling as he blasphemed.

The tears that had welled in his eyes began to burn where they gathered. It stung quite a bit more than he remembered it feeling the last time he’d had a good cry, but he didn’t think much of it–too consumed with the overwhelming love he felt for his dearest friend.

Then the first tear fell. It wasn’t completely unbearable; the pain he felt on his cheek would best be compared to the unwelcome sensation of rubbing hand sanitizer into a fresh papercut. It didn’t have him doubling over, screaming in agony, no. But it was enough to force Aziraphale out of his thoughts and into a very real and very harsh moment.

He was confused at first. Disoriented. _This is not what crying usually feels like_ , he thought. Then, _This is not a usual case of tears._ As if in cruel response, his cheeks began to sizzle where the tears wetted them. It reminded him of what holy water did to demons. He noticed just a bit of steam rise from his cheeks, further blurring his vision, and with a sharp gasp came to the next and most horrific realization of all: _I am falling._

It couldn’t be, could it? _No. No!_ He was overreacting, of course. He’d had a rather blasphemous thought a moment ago, but surely that alone wouldn’t–

“Aziraphale,” came the voice of the Almighty, along with a bright light from somewhere beyond the shop’s ceiling.

Aziraphale startled and looked up, squinting at nothing as he stammered, “Y-yes, Lord?”

“‘You shall have no other gods before Me’,” She reminded him.

Aziraphale blanched. “Ah– Y-yes, Lord. Of course. I wouldn’t, ah, even _think_ to, eh, um–”

“You have chosen your own path over that of Heaven’s for the last time, Aziraphale.” God sounded entirely neutral as She reprimanded the angel, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure if that was a comfort to him or if he would _prefer_ a tinge of disappointment or even anger in Her voice. Did She care for him at all? Had She _ever_? “I’ve decided to make it official. You will be cast out from Heaven, and thus truly free to do as you please.” 

The light from above faded, and the candles Aziraphale’d lit about the shop flickered out, leaving him alone in utter darkness. With an absentminded snap, the lightbulb above him and lamp in the corner of the room brought a warm glow back to the shop. He felt a bit numb, and sat still for six infinite seconds before it began to sink in.

He was being… cast out? After all this time? All the supposed “wrongs”, all the “sins” he’d committed across six thousand years on Earth, and only _now_ was he being judged? For… What, for the _depth of his love_? Not for his part in averting Armageddon, nor for impersonating a demon to save him from death. Not for the countless lies he’d told to his superiors in Heaven. Not even for lying to God directly about his sword all those years ago, or for the act of giving it away in the first place. No, the breaking point, it seemed, came down to his love for Crowley.

_No. No, no, no! It can’t be, I’ve…_ He began to hyperventilate as the tears came back and stung his cheeks. He wrung his hands and shook his head. _I’ve gone too far this time._

A sudden unease in the pit of his stomach gave him the sensation of falling, as though he’d taken a dive off the tallest point in the world and was faced with a long, terrifying free-fall into a dark abyss. He launched out of his chair, knocking it on its side, and fell to the floor, curling in on himself as he cried out in agony. He clutched at his ribs, and then at the dusty old rug on the floor. It felt like his entire being was on fire. Not just his human corporation, but _all that he was_.

His wings manifested of their own accord; Aziraphale was too caught up in his torment to focus on keeping them in their usual plane. They flapped around wildly, frantically, knocking things off his desk and the little table a few feet away from it. The tip of his left wing batted the light on the ceiling, and shattered glass rained down on him as a result. Aziraphale was lifted from the ground and slammed back into it a few times, unable to control the reflexive response of his wings to the sensation of burning.

He sobbed, drooling carelessly into the rug as the holy tears continued to sear his face. “ _Please_ ,” he begged, his voice raw and catching in his throat. He wasn’t sure who he was pleading with; it was quite clear that the Almighty no longer wanted anything to do with him. He’d gone too far, officially putting Crowley above All Else, and this was his punishment. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a blurry glimpse of one of his wings burning. There was a small flame that seemed to be expanding from where the wing met his shoulder blade to its outermost tip. However, rather than leaving his wings scorched and bare, the flame left black feathers in its wake.

In the deepest corner of his being, he _felt_ more than heard a voice. “ _Retract your statement_ ,” it demanded. “ _Renounce your unjustified love of this demon, and no further damage will be incurred. You will be welcomed back into Heaven, if you are willing to leave the demon Crowley behind._ ”

He wasn’t sure who was giving him this chance. It didn’t feel like God. It didn’t sound like Her, nor even the Metatron. Then again, he wasn’t in a place where he could assess its source. He could hardly remember the Almighty’s true name. In any case, he knew what his response would be. His lips trembled as he whispered, “ _No_.”

“ _So be it,_ ” said the voice, and then it left him, and Aziraphale had never felt more alone in his entire existence.

His wailing grew louder, the combined, shocking and unfamiliar sensations of falling and burning prompting him to claw at the floor. He felt something emerge from his cuticles and then heard the chilling sound of claws scraping against the ground, shredding right through the rug he was bracing himself against.

He bit down on his lower lip and cried out when something pierced it on either side. He was too wrapped up in pain to realize it was his own doing, with his newly grown fangs. They retracted as quickly as they’d come out to bite, and he hissed at the way they tugged on the wounds in their hasty retreat. His mouth was suddenly assaulted with the taste of warm metal and he spat blood onto what was left of the rug.

With all the unwelcome sensations, he’d not even noticed that his clothes had burned away, leaving him naked and curled in on himself, his blackened wings doing their best to cocoon him in his desperation for a sense of safety. Just as the burning was beginning to subside, he felt a ripple of pain along his skin, as though something were forcing its way up from beneath his pores. It started at his feet and ran up both sides of his body, finally stopping at his temples. There, something far more intense pierced up through either side of his forehead, and Aziraphale dug his claws into his own palms in a futile attempt to distract himself from the pain.

Although he was already on solid ground, he felt as though his entire being finally broke its fall with a _thud_. He felt air rush out of his lungs, and lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the most intensely painful thing I've ever written. It'll get better, rest assured, but Aziraphale's got a long recovery ahead of him.


	2. Chapter 2

Aziraphale woke to sunlight pouring in through the windows. He couldn’t really make out his surroundings, as he seemed to be burrowed under a blanket of some sort, but he knew he was in the back of his shop. He darted his tongue out and took in the scent of dust and old leather-bound books and ash and wine and baked goods and Crowley _–_ oh, _lovely_! It’d been several months since the demon had set foot in the shop and his scent still lingered.

As his mind began to regain the ability of coherent thought, he realized he must have fallen asleep sometime last night and had a dream. He felt himself wiggle under the comfort of the blanket as he recalled the plot of said dream, then his entire body tensed. _Oh. More of a nightmare, really_.

But of course it’d only been a dream! There was no doubt about that. He rarely slept, but when he did, he’d been the victim of his imaginative subconscious every time. This was hardly anything new. Yes, a dream, indeed. He was still an angel, of course. Albeit a sleepy one.

_Yes, definitely still an angel,_ he thought to himself, feeling a bit foolish for the sliver of doubt he couldn’t seem to stuff down. _Of course._

Besides, he was hardly even aching! If he’d _really_ fallen last night, he’d feel the memory of pain all over his body, wouldn’t he? From all that burning… He twitched uncomfortably at the thought. But he didn’t feel sore, or even particularly tense, save from the memory of the nightmare. He felt rather loose, as it were. Free. It was nice.

He uncoiled from himself and stretched to his full length under the blanket. Wait, _uncoiled_? That was a strange sensation…

His head emerged from beneath the tattered rug and– _Oh! The rug!_

Panic began to rise in Aziraphale as the memory of clawing at the fabric resurfaced vividly. He glanced up at the sofa and the panic increased tenfold. He was far too small, too low to the ground, and why in _Heaven’s_ name couldn’t he close his eyes?! He tried to stand but couldn’t seem to locate his legs. He tried to push himself off the ground but no arms moved to aid him in his efforts. He began to breathe rapidly and realized it felt different in a way he couldn’t explain.

_No. No, no. I must still be dreaming. That’s it._

He slithered out from the safety of the rug and moved up the sofa leg.

_Slithered?! I certainly couldn’t have_ slithered _up here!_

Well, that confirmed it, then. Aziraphale was surely still dreaming. Even in his previous dream, when he’d “fallen”, he had maintained a humanoid form. He certainly hadn’t fallen asleep as a snake! Which, of course, made sense, because he hadn’t fallen asleep at all since then, because he had been dreaming the entire time, and he still was, and it only… It only _felt_ real. It really was quite a vivid dream; he had to give his subconscious mind some credit.

_This will all be over soon,_ he assured himself, _I’ll return to normal, a-and I’ll call up Crowley and have a good laugh over how silly all this is._

He felt something like a chuckle reverberate through his long, cylindrical body. _Imagine. Me, a snake. A_ demon _! Oh, we’ll have quite the laugh over this, surely._

So, he curled back in on himself, resting his head atop the coils of the rest of his body, and waited patiently to wake up.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And then the sun was going down, and he was feeling a little less patient about the whole thing as he looked around the room and shuddered at the state it was in. His things had been knocked from his desk, and from the little table beside it, which had also toppled over. His chair was on its side, and one of the legs had snapped off, leaving a few massive splinters on the ground. There was glass scattered about, the source of which he wasn’t certain. The angel wing mug that he cherished was on the floor, shattered except for the wings, which had become detached and were covered in ash. Aziraphale looked away, fighting off the uneasiness that stirred in him at the sight of those blackened wings.

Soon enough the sun came back up, and Aziraphale was beginning to grow annoyed. Really, how long had he been asleep? Why was it taking so long? He’d tried several times to force himself to wake, to no avail. Then he’d attempted to at least take control of the dream; he figured it should be possible given his lucidity, but no matter how focused his intent, he couldn’t return the shop to its proper state, nor shift into his own body. This was why he didn’t sleep. He never could get the hang of dreaming.

When midday came to pass and Aziraphale still hadn’t woken up, and he found himself grappling with the unthinkable notion that perhaps it was because he wasn’t asleep.

_No, that doesn’t–I’m not… No! No, NO! I won’t even_ think _of it!_

He uncoiled again and slithered down to the remains of the rug, carefully avoiding the glass, ceramic, and splintered wood strewn about. He began to scream from the confines of his mind, and completely broke down when he heard a hiss escape his mouth.

This was real, wasn’t it?

Aziraphale felt like crying, like _weeping_ , but he couldn’t. His eyes failed to produce any tears. He supposed it was for the best, given the pain his tears had caused him before. Oh, _fuck_ , but that made it hurt all the more, somehow! The agony of having all that pain, all that _dread_ in that little snake body, and no way to let it out. Aziraphale trembled where he lay.

_Lord, if this is some sort of extra punishment, keeping me here like this… Please, have mercy. Please, let me have my human body back!_ Please _! I… I beg of You! I’ll never ask anything of You again. You have my word. Just… PLEASE._

Immediately, Aziraphale found himself shifting back into his usual form, lying in the fetal position on the rug. Glass pierced the soft skin on the side of his stomach, and something was digging into his thigh. It didn’t matter.

Aziraphale remained in that position, unmoving and unfeeling, for three and a half hours. Tears gathered in his eyes and streaked slowly down his face, sizzling all the way to the floor, but he made no move to wipe them away. His wings ached to be groomed, and he let them ache. They twitched periodically, startling Aziraphale whenever he began to drift out of consciousness. His hands were up by his head, and he tried very hard not to notice the feeling of several of his claws resting against his forehead. He moved his hand a bit, and then whimpered when it brushed against something foreign, something hard and bone-like stemming from his left temple. He didn’t want to know. He couldn’t handle anything more. He moved his hands down to his chest, and dug his claws into his palms, and felt the warmth of his blood rising to the surface of the new wounds. There was some strange comfort in the pain that came from the action. It was pain that he _chose_.

Then again…

_“Renounce your love…,”_ he remembered being told. He’d been given a choice. He realized with no small amount of agony that he’d _chosen_ _this_. He’d refused to hold back the severity of his love for Crowley and suffered the consequences.

He wasn’t sure whether he regretted it or not. Would it have been so bad to… to lie? To simply deny his love for Crowley to save himself this wretched damnation? It wouldn’t have meant he loved him any less. He could have pretended to realign his loyalty with Heaven. He could’ve met Crowley in secret as they’d done so many times before, and Crowley need never have known.

_Crowley. Knowing._ Aziraphale’s mind stirred, his heart suddenly racing. _Crowley can’t know about this._ How would he even tell him? He couldn’t bear the thought of the demon seeing what’s become of him. Seeing what he’s made of himself. Seeing what… What his love for him had done. Crowley might blame himself. Or what if he’d be disgusted? Or angry with Aziraphale for not simply _lying_? What if he’d think him a fool, and want nothing to do with him?

Aziraphale choked out a sob. If he’d thought Crowley was all he really had before, it was nothing compared to how desperately he needed him now. He clenched his fists until claw met bone, and wailed at the pain.

He couldn’t lose Crowley. Not now, not ever. Not even in the slightest of ways. Even if Crowley forgave him his foolishness, and accepted his… his _hideous_ new form… He likely wouldn’t think of him the same way anymore. Aziraphale whimpered at the thought of never hearing the demon call him “angel” again.

No, Crowley could never find out. Which meant Aziraphale would have to master the art of hiding his demonic form. But to do that, he’d first have to assess his condition, and he was nowhere near ready for that.

He closed his eyes, his lower lip trembling as he brought his wings closer around himself, and tried to fall asleep.

He couldn’t.

He spent nearly two full days curled up like that, unaware of the passage of time. Anyway, what was time to a… _demon?_ Aziraphale felt himself grow even more numb at the word. It wasn’t that he hated the concept of demons entirely; he was in love with one, wasn’t he? It was that he’d been… turned into one, his holiness ripped from his being as though he were something vile, something utterly wicked. Something unworthy of love.

He seemed to have run out of tears, which was good because the part of him that still cared about things was growing concerned that any more might permanently disfigure his face. Not that he wasn’t already disfigured, he realized with no small amount of anguish. But at least he could tuck his wings into another plane, out of sight, out of mind.

A wandering glance down the side of his body at some point during those endless two days had alerted him to the scales that had formed on either side of him. That must have been what he’d felt pushing up through his skin just before passing out, he realized. His fingers had brushed against what he assumed were scales on the sides of his face, too, and then he’d dared to drift them down over his neck, which had taken on the same effect. His feet seemed to be almost entirely covered in scales, or at least that was what it felt like whenever he twitched and they rubbed against each other. He’d been too afraid to confirm with his eyes.

Slowly, as he lay there, he began to feel the aches and pains in his body dull. But they never fully left. It was as though this subtle pain was becoming a part of him. He wondered if Crowley had the same whispers of pain, if they ever went away.

The telephone ringing finally snapped him out of his daze. He’d wanted nothing more than to ignore it, but then the thought occurred to him that it might be Crowley, and the last thing he wanted was for the demon to rush over thinking there was some sort of emergency if he didn’t pick up.

He scrambled to get up and nearly fell from the sudden shock of pain when he removed his claws from his palms to push himself up, pressing glass shards into his already bloodied hands. His knees threatened to give out and he maneuvered his wings to provide some sort of balance. Oh, the wings. The wings definitely still hurt. Ached, more like. They were sore all over. Aziraphale sucked in a sharp breath and rolled his neck in effort to ease the tension in his muscles. If anything, it only made his neck feel more strained. He made a small whimpering sound in the back of his throat and then remembered the telephone.

By some miracle, the counter that housed Aziraphale’s phone had been just out of his wingspan, and was in the same condition it’d been in before… everything. He limped to it, and his hand twitched as he reached for the phone. He picked it up with his fingertips after a few failed attempts where his claws got in the way.

“Hello,” he said, hardly recognizing his own voice. It hadn’t been demonically changed, thank the Almigh–No, thank _Someone_ , but not _Her_ , never Her, not anymore _._ But the voice that left his dry, cracked lips was groggy and caught in his throat a bit.

_“Hello,”_ replied an automated voice. _“This is a very important message regarding your credit card. It has been compromised. Please press one to help us confirm your account by using your personal inform–”_

Aziraphale hadn’t merely hung up, he’d sent the entire telephone flying across the shop with a wretched growl. He watched it crash into a shelf and break into several large pieces, the cord following after it and slumping around what was left of the dial. Aziraphale widened his eyes at the intensity of his outburst. He was no stranger to irritability, but he’d always been more prone to harsh words than physical violence. Was that something he’d have to adjust to? Urges to throw things, break them? Would he be a _danger_ to anyone?

He turned around and slumped against the nearest wall, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his head atop them. From this angle it was impossible not to notice his scaled feet, and he let out a heartbroken sigh as he observed the extent of it. They weren’t entirely covered in scales, but several strips lined the sides, and there were small patches scattered about the tops. The scales were keeled, and nearly the same creamy color as his favorite coat. The coat that’d burnt away to nothing…

He shuddered, suddenly aware of just how naked he was, but he couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it. He was more focused on the unwelcome changes to his form. The scales that started at his feet ran up from the outer sides of his ankles to the sides of his knees, and he could feel where his arms brushed against his thighs that the scales continued up the rest of his leg, to the sides of his hips. So, that was it, then. His new demonic form was even more snakelike than Crowley’s.

Of course, he realized, he’d never seen Crowley entirely bare. Perhaps he did have scales crawling up the outer sides of his body. But he didn’t think so; they weren’t on his neck or face, as the case seemed to be with Aziraphale.

Maybe he was being punished more harshly than Crowley. Maybe his sins were worse. Or maybe the Almighty just really wanted to drive home the point that he fell because of a demon, giving Aziraphale a similar demonic form because, what, it amused Her? The irony? The fact that if Crowley were ever to see Aziraphale like this, he’d know immediately what caused him to fall?

Right. Crowley would never see him like this. But in order to guarantee that, Aziraphale needed to see _himself_. He needed to learn to pull those demonic traits back in, to hide them away, to appear as normal as possible. He sniffled, then stood, walking carefully on his newly scaled feet. Fortunately, the bottoms of his feet remained unchanged. However, that bit of luck did him absolutely no good as he walked over a floor that’d been scattered with glass and other debris. He was practically tiptoeing to avoid tearing the soles of his feet to shreds, as had been the case with his palms.

He bit his lip, still sore from when he’d pierced himself with his fangs, and looked down at his hands. The wounds were deep, four on each palm, and blood had crusted around them. They were unspeakably sore; it hurt to move his fingers or wrists even slightly. He glared at the offending claws, really studying them for the first time. They were the same color as his regular nails, but extended twice as long past the fingertips, and curved slightly inward at their sharp ends. They were jagged along the sides, which made Aziraphale’s lip tremble yet again. His beautiful, manicured nails… Would they ever be so lovely again?

He then noticed that the skin under his nails, or, _claws_ , rather, was much rougher–and thicker, too. He wondered… _fwipp_.

Ah, so they were entirely retractable, then. His regular nails had been patiently waiting to resurface from beneath those hideous things the entire time. Aziraphale let out a sigh of relief at the first sign of normalcy, and, nodding to himself to build up the courage, made his way to the mirror he kept in the back room.

He couldn’t bring himself to look into it right away. First, he elected to run his gaze down his body, nodding in forced resolution as he looked at his scales. They were rough, and upon closer inspection seemed to run in three or four rows across. Altogether, the column of scales running from his feet to the outer sides of his torso was no wider than his wrist. He twisted his arm around to observe the continuation of the scales from the side of his chest up to the outside of his arms, all the way down to his wrist and creeping up onto the side of his hand nearest his little finger. He took a deep breath to steady himself and closed his eyes for a moment. He wasn’t certain, but he thought he might be able to simply cover the scales with his usual attire, if he was careful with his hands. The scales he’d felt on his neck and face, though…

Right. Time to have a look, then.

“Please,” he said with a shaky breath, though he wasn’t sure to whom, nor what he was pleading for, exactly. He clenched and unclenched his hands into loose fists a few times, hissing from the pain but unable to stop himself from fidgeting. “Please.”

Like a disobedient child afraid to look their guardian in the eye, Aziraphale slowly lifted his gaze to meet his reflection.

He gasped, then let out a small, broken moan. “No,” he croaked. “P-please, no, no, I _can’t_ –”

Tears immediately began to burn at the corners of his eyes, and he shuddered with his entire body, his wings swooping down in front of him, shielding him from the mirror. Unease in the pit of his stomach rose to an unbearable level, and before he realized what was happening, he had doubled over and was retching onto the floor.

Aziraphale had never vomited before, and, though he knew what was happening, and that it was a rather normal reaction for a human-like body to have, especially given the circumstances, the unfamiliar experience felt like another part of his damnation. An added horror to his punishment. His throat, already raw and sore from days of weeping, began to feel even worse. It grew coarse and dry, like sandpaper. And the taste, oh, the _taste–_ it was _awful_. Just when he thought he was finished, after nearly two minutes of throwing up, the stench of it rose from the floor and sent him off again. He vomited for another minute, until there was nothing left in him and he was dry heaving and slobbering onto the floor as he wept. The tears burned his cheeks, and he’d nearly forgotten what that particular form of torment felt like. He needed to stop. It hurt. It _hurt_.

He took a few deep breaths, sniffled as he stood up straight, and brought the back of his hand up to wipe his cheeks. It stung the skin there, but it wasn’t quite as sensitive as the skin on his face. Satisfied that he was done crying for the moment, he took another few breaths, and, with a thought, banished the vomit at his feet right out of existence. Some small part of him was relieved that he was able to perform a minor miracle, but he was a little too busy reliving the initial shock and horror of seeing what’d become of his appearance to revel in that accomplishment.

He couldn’t bear to look up again at his offending reflection. That treacherous mirror. Could it be a trick? An hallucination? Perhaps the mirror had become possessed, or cursed, or something, and was… was _lying_ to him, somehow. It… it had to be. He couldn’t possibly…

Aziraphale’s face felt heavy with the weight of his frown, his eyes too tired and haunted by what they’d seen to stay open.

His eyes. They hadn’t been… _there_. Of course, he _had_ them, or he wouldn’t have been able to see that they weren’t… Well, they were black. Entirely. From the pupil to the iris to the sclera–all pitch black. They looked hollow, empty; not even holding so much as a mischievous glint.

That had been horror enough. But in those few seconds before he’d turned away to hurl, he’d seen himself in all his demonic ghastliness. The scales that climbed up from his shoulders to his neck to the sides of his face, stopping at the temples, where– Aziraphale’s knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor, cocooning himself in his wings as his breath grew heavy and his heart sank to the pit of his stomach.

Horns.

He had horns.

He’d known it the moment his hand had brushed over one of them two days prior. But he hadn’t been ready to accept it. He’d snapped his hand down to his chest and forced himself to forget about it.

There’d be no forgetting about it, now. He squeezed his eyes shut and was instantly greeted with a mental image of his warped form. He whimpered and opened his eyes, only to become über-aware of the way the horns felt coming out of his head. He could _feel_ them there, stemming from the highest points of his hairline on either side of his head. And even with his eyes open, in his mind’s eye he saw their bone-like color, complementing the tan scales that surrounded the area where they emerged from his skin. He saw how they curved backwards at the ends. They were wide enough to wrap a hand around the base, and got thinner up toward the pointed tips. He remembered how long they were–just barely taller than his hair at its most fluffy.

Aziraphale glanced out the window and wondered what day it was. He reasoned it’d really only been a few days since it’d all started. But it felt much longer.

Several hours passed, and Aziraphale was exhausted, not having moved from the floor. He’d seen the worst of his new form (he hoped), and, beyond the easy retracting of the claws and fangs and the familiar action of putting away his wings–which he did after the first hour–he had no idea what to do with the rest of himself. He had tried willing away the scales, to no avail. He would have to look at his reflection to see if he could make his eyes look more human, and he was not willing to confront that image again so soon. The same was true of his… _the_ horns. They were not his, he decided. He would not take ownership of them.

He considered how painful it might be to saw them off, or whether they’d only grow again if he did. For all he knew, they were impenetrable, anyway.

So, rather than continue to search desperately for an answer, he decided to ignore the issue for the time being. He stood, then, and grabbed a blanket from the sofa, wrapping himself in it and breathing a sigh of relief at how well the fabric hid most of his scales.

His hands were still in a lot of pain, but he didn’t think he had it in him to heal himself just then. Healing physical wounds always took a bit of concentration, and he wasn’t sure he had much of that.

He leaned back on the sofa, closed his eyes, and was on the brink of getting some much-needed rest when he jolted alert.

The phone. He’d destroyed it. What if Crowley really did end up trying to call him? It would undoubtedly happen eventually, even if he really did sleep until July. If he couldn’t get through to him, he might just come right over unannounced, giving Aziraphale no time to prepare to hide his new features. No, he needed that telephone.

He supposed this was as good a time as any to test his ability to perform restorative miracles as a… as not an angel. He stood swiftly, and strode over to the remains of the phone across the shop. He took a deep breath, wiggled his fingers a bit, and then waved a hand, his bloodied palms unable to accommodate his usual snapping motion.

To say that he felt a rush of relief at the sight of the telephone on the table nearest him would be an understatement. It was in better condition than the day he bought it. Aziraphale nearly teared up at the proof that he could still do useful things, but decided that holy tears on suddenly unholy skin would ruin the moment, so instead he sniffed and blinked a few times, shaking his head. He gave a small smile to the phone, with a bit of regret laced onto his lips, as if to apologize for what he’d put the device through. Still, bittersweet though it was, it was the first time he’d smiled since… falling.

He’d fallen. He needed to at least admit that to himself, he thought.

Oh, but the ache it sent to the pit of his stomach, and how that ache spread until it consumed his entire body.

“An unpleasant truth is still a truth,” he told himself. “There’s really no sense in denying it.”

_But it might… hurt less,_ he thought. _If I deny it… I can pretend it’s not real. I can… I don’t have to accept that I’m… not an angel._ He nodded to himself. _If I’d just_ denied _my love…_ Oh, but he could never do that again, could he? After all those years of pretending he and Crowley didn’t even know each other, of denying their friendship, even to Crowley’s _face_ … Once he finally set himself free, after averting Armageddon, he could never go back to living like that. He would _never_ hide his love away again, no matter… _No matter the consequences._

“Not even for one blasted moment. Not even to utter a single untrue sentence.” Aziraphale swallowed thickly, stubbornly proud and yet also cursing himself for his resolve. His eyes threatened to brim with those damned burning tears as he retreated back to the sofa and slumped into it. He lowered his tired voice to a whisper as he closed his eyes and began to drift off again. “I love him.”

He tried to heal his hands with a miracle upon waking late the next morning. Surely he should have the concentration by then, right?

He did, he thought. He just… couldn’t do it. He began to panic as he hovered his palms over each other, willing with all his might to cleanse and seal up the bone-deep wounds he’d put there just a couple days earlier. Nothing happened.

Silently, he rose from the sofa, keeping the blanket draped over his partially-scaled shoulders, and let tears burn his cheeks as he retrieved the First Aid kit he kept in the shop “just in case”. 

It would do him very little good, he realized, given the severity of his wounds. But he couldn’t very well go to the hospital for a proper treatment, could he?

He brought the box back to his desk, miracling the surface entirely clear with a thought, and restored his chair just before he dropped himself into it. He felt the corner of his mouth twitch in a humorless smile. _Of course_ he could clean things up, fix broken objects. Just not himself, apparently. Whether it was simply because these wounds were the result of his fall, or whether he would never be able to heal himself at all, he wasn’t sure. But in any case, it was cruel, much like the rest of his fate.

He pried the box open and sighed, blinking down at its contents. Where to begin? He needed to disinfect the wound, if it wasn’t too late. He knew the damage was hardly life-threatening; he was still quite a bit more durable than a human being, after all. But he wasn’t sure whether it might, ah, get infected or something. He’d never been in a position where he couldn’t heal himself.

It was a welcome distraction, figuring out how to heal himself naturally. Kept his mind off of… other things. He searched his collection of informational books for any sort of medical manuals, and spent a couple hours adding to his knowledge of self-administered care procedures. It seemed that he’d made a terrible mistake in not tending to the wounds sooner, but he wasted no time with remorse. Instead, he returned to the desk and placed his hands palm-up on the surface. He willed the wounds to be cleaned from the inside out, and sighed with relief at the uncomfortable sensation that confirmed he’d succeeded.

He supposed he got a free pass with that one because he wasn’t technically _healing_ himself, just doing a bit of miraculous cleaning. Now, he could dress the wounds and get on with the rest of his d– _Oh_. Right. 

For a brief moment, Aziraphale considered returning his hands to their unclean state. He may not be able to clean them as effectively that way, and they may well get infected, but it would at least prolong his distraction.

“Oh, _really_ ,” he tutted. “Don’t be unreasonable, you ridiculous ang–” He swallowed the rest of the word and very nearly choked on it. Blinking back tears, he resumed his mission: dressing the wounds. He took his sweet time, gingerly wrapping gauze around his palms and securing it with medical tape.

When he was finished, he sat at the desk for a few minutes, staring blankly out one of the windows behind it. The streets were empty. He’d nearly forgotten they were in the middle of a pandemic. With a sigh, he got up from his chair and turned to survey the mess he’d made of the room. A small smile tugged at his lips as he realized he could distract himself just a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the Distraction Train to Denialville!!! Choo choo, motherfuckers!


	3. Chapter 3

It only took an hour and a half to return the shop to its usual state, but Aziraphale spent an additional half hour adjusting things, and then realized he definitely needed to reorganize a few shelves. When he was through, he tossed the blanket he’d draped over his shoulders back onto the sofa and replaced it with a nice, pale blue silk robe he pulled from out of nowhere. The cool, gentle fabric was a welcome embrace after all the, well, the burning.

With nothing left to clean, he decided to bake something, still not ready to face his reflection and practice hiding those damned spots and horns and, oh what to do about the _eyes…_

No, that was a problem he could work to solve _after_ he’d tried a recipe for a decadent chocolate rose cake.

And then of course he had to _eat_ the cake–or at least a few slices, anyway. He was incredibly relieved to find that his sense of taste hadn’t been affected in all of this.

…Now what about that lemon pound cake recipe he’d come across? He could–

_Rrring. Rrring._

Aziraphale’s heart stilled and he dropped his fork to his dessert plate with a _clink_. It couldn’t be Crowley ringing him, could it? No, he’d likely still be asleep. But if it _was_ Crowley… He was nowhere near ready for him! He hadn’t even looked at himself in the mirror since the first time. He may be able to hide his eyes behind sunglasses and most of his scales beneath that robe, but the… the horns? He supposed if he had no other option he could throw on a hat?

_Rrring. Rrring._

Aziraphale jumped up and scurried to the phone. He answered with a nervous, “Hello?”

_“…”_

“Hello?” Aziraphale felt as though he could throw up again and that was quite frankly the _last_ thing he wanted to experience at the moment.

_“Hello. This is a courtesy call from your cable company. You’re late on your most recent paym–”_

Aziraphale slammed the phone down with a huff. He didn’t even _have_ cable! Damn telephone scams…

He stomped back to his chair and plopped down with another huff. Then, he sobered and blinked in the direction of the phone. He really wasn’t ready for Crowley, and he needed to be, if only to soothe his own nerves. Waiting until the last minute wouldn’t do any good.

He hesitated a moment before finally standing with a deep exhale, and made his way over to face his new antagonist: the mirror.

Aziraphale wrung his hands for a very brief moment before remembering his bandaged palms. He stilled himself, bringing his hands to his sides, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath before lifting his head to meet his reflection. He opened his eyes and whimpered. He’d hoped it’d be less of a shock the second time. Yet after a mere two-second glimpse at those hollow eyes and cursed scales trailing up and around hideous horns, Aziraphale tore his gaze from the mirror and began crying into his hands.

It stung, of course, and he was rather tired of pain, so he shook his head, coughed and sniffled a few times, and then tilted his head to wipe his cheeks on the part of the robe that covered his shoulders. After a few more deep breaths, he gathered the courage to face himself again.

“It’s only temporary,” he told himself. “I’ll learn to hide it all. Just… be brave.”

He looked at himself. Or, rather, what’d become of himself. He got the strangest feeling of both personal recognition and complete unfamiliarity. He _knew_ whose reflection he was looking at, but he couldn’t seem to claim it for himself. _Well, let’s see about fixing that_ , he resolved.

The first things that needed to go were the horns. He couldn’t bear to look at them any longer. With all the determination he could muster, he tried to will them away. “Be _gone_ , wretched things,” he commanded. No change. “I… I _reject_ you entirely!” Nothing. “Please… Please go away,” he whispered, to no avail. He kept his gaze on them for a few moments, holding the tiniest bit of hope that perhaps his miracle was simply delayed. Finally, he looked down at his hands and clenched his jaw in effort to keep from crying.

Too difficult a feat, then. Maybe later he could find the strength to be rid of them. He _had_ to…

He looked back up at his reflection and frowned at the scales on the sides of his face and neck. They made him look diseased, he realized with a grimace. _Well, all the more reason to make them disappear, then._ He took a deep breath and nodded. “You can do this, Aziraphale,” he told himself.

He couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t. Why did he ever dare to think that he could? He’d been damned. Cursed with this hideous form. Why on Earth would he consider himself to be so lucky as to be able to miracle away the evidence of his fall? Of _course_ he couldn’t.

But Crowley could, couldn’t he? Besides his lovely amber eyes and beautiful black wings, Aziraphale had never seen any other sign of Crowley’s demonic form. He managed to present as more or less human with ease! Did he have features like Aziraphale’s, tucked away in another dimension? Was he hiding scales, too? Horns, even, perhaps? The mere thought of it made Aziraphale feel less alone, and just a tad less grotesque. If Crowley were to reveal such parts on his own body, Aziraphale knew without a doubt that he would adore him no less. He may even worship the scales on the demon, press kisses to the place where Crowley’s horns met his skin.

But he wasn’t Crowley, was he? He was _himself_ , thank you, and his _self_ felt like anything but at the moment. If he could just make himself appear a _little_ more human, if he could just feel a _little_ more like his old self again…

He supposed he could try his eyes, since he knew for certain that Crowley had some level of control over his own eyes. If Crowley could do it, perhaps he could, too?

Aziraphale had been able to control Crowley’s eyes when they’d switched bodies all that time ago. But that’d been the other way around; he’d let them go from the more controlled, white scleras to the full snake eyes he adored so much on the demon. He’d never bothered to try reverting them to their more human form after that. Still, he hoped, perhaps it would work the same way.

He stared himself down, brows drawn and lips tight, and imagined his eyes returning to normal. And then something miraculous happened; he saw the whites of his eyes! He was so thrilled he lost control, and they reverted back into full darkness. “Oh, no you _won’t_!” There they were again. Perfectly normal scleras. Beautiful. Now, for those black irises.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to return his irises to their usual color. After fifteen minutes of focusing so intently he began to wonder if his eyes would pop out of their sockets, he exhaled and gave up. Crowley never could seem to be fully rid of his snake eyes, could he? Perhaps it was the same for him. His lip quivered as he realized he may have to come to terms with wearing those black irises for eternity.

Ah, _wearing_! That gave him an idea… He could wear something! Sunglasses! Just as Crowley did. He used a miracle to produce a replica of the demon’s most loved accessory on his face.

Oh, but he looked absolutely _ridiculous_ in Crowley’s sunglasses! He’d have laughed, if he had any humor in him at the time. He dismissed the pair with a wave and conjured up new ones. The frames were thin gold around oval lenses, with Greek key patterning on the outer corners, and then shifted to a thick, brown, glossy wood-like material on the sides. They felt strange against the scales beside his ears, but served their purpose nonetheless. The lenses had a slight bluish tint to them, which he rather liked. Much more to his tastes.

Well, his tastes didn’t allow for the need of sunglasses to begin with. But, he supposed, he’d just have to make do with what he’d been dealt.

_But those horns…_ He glared at the protrusions on his forehead. He tried once again to will them away, and was met with the same disappointment as before. “Why… _WHY_ can’t I just _DO_ this?!” He was fuming, hot tears streaming down reddened cheeks. He noticed, then, just what those seemingly holy tears did to him. He’d been too focused on the other issues to mark the result of his tears. In their path down his face, they reddened his skin. It sizzled a bit, like… like a snake’s hiss, but it sounded more intense than it actually was. The closest thing he could compare it to was a bad sunburn, leaving streaks of red, tight skin on his cheeks. Aziraphale was quite sure they would heal on their own.

Still, it stung. And the fact that his body’s natural response to emotional pain resulted in _physical_ pain made it all worse. Apparently the Almighty wouldn’t even let him lament his punishment without punishing him _further_ for it.

Aziraphale balled his hands into fists despite the soreness in his palms. “ _FUCK_ You,” he shouted at a God who didn’t care, then launched a punch at the mirror. It shattered, bloodying the knuckles on his right hand. The gauze wrapped around his palm began to bleed through. “F-fuck,” he sobbed. “Fuck.”

A sudden knock on the door of the bookshop very nearly made Aziraphale jump out of his wretched corporation.

_Who could_ possibly _be–_

Another series of knocks.

Aziraphale cleared his throat, willing himself to stop crying. He wrapped himself tightly in his robe and moved toward the shop’s entrance, careful to avoid the possibility of being seen through the windows. He’d just have to send them away without even opening the door. Surely they’d understand; there was a lockdown in effect, after all. He reached the door and faced it straight on, just as the unwanted guest landed several more knocks to it from the other side.

_Right, then. Calm voice. Send them away._

He’d barely opened his mouth to say, “I’m sorry, we’re closed,” when a familiar voice pierced through the barrier between him and the outside world.

“Angel!”

Aziraphale felt all the calm he’d collected flee from his being. _No. No, he can’t be here. Not now, not yet! I’m not– No, no, NO!_

“I know you’re there, Aziraphale. I know you can hear me. You’re probably on the other side of this door, debating whether to break the rules and let me in.” Crowley sounded so fond as he gently teased him, it broke Aziraphale’s heart that he’d have to send him away without explanation. “Well, you don’t have to worry your little holy head about it. I used a miracle to get here; no one saw me, I swear.”

Aziraphale nearly choked on his words as he stammered, a little louder than was necessary, “W-well then, you must use a miracle to get _back_!”

A chuckle. “Now, what would be the point in that? I’m already here, aren’t I? Come oooon, angel,” Crowley groaned lowly, then his voice shifted into a higher, whinier tone, “let me _in_. I brought wine. And cherries. No more cheating on those cake recipes.”

Aziraphale melted at such thoughtfulness. “Oh, Crowley…,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He shook his head, and stated as firmly as he could manage, “I can’t.”

“Why the hell not? You’re being ridiculous, angel, I’m _right here_.” There were a few moments of silence as Aziraphale’s cheeks began to burn again from those cursed tears. Then, Crowley mumbled against the door, “‘Less you don’t want me here. S’that it? Glad to have a break from my company for a while?” He sounded utterly lost, confused, _hurt_.

“No!” Aziraphale wailed. “No, of course not! Of course I want… I want nothing more than to be in your company, Crowley, believe me, I… I…” He broke down in sobs.

“…Aziraphale?” Crowley’s voice was tight with concern, but gentle, tentative even, as though he were approaching a stray cat. “What’s wrong? What’s made you so– Has– Has someone threatened you? Angel, are you alone in there?”

Aziraphale sniffled and nodded, leaning his head against the door. The horn on the right side of his head scraped against it, and he pulled back so abruptly he nearly fell down. He choked out a cry and shook his head.

“Right. Aziraphale, I’m coming in. I’m opening the door, myself.” He softened his voice. “Stand back, angel.”

“No!” Aziraphale panicked, feeling a need rise in his quivering body to either flee or vomit or both. “You mustn’t! P-please, _please_ , Crowley, you can’t– I can’t– I’m alright, really!”

A sharp, humorless laugh from Crowley. “Right.”

“I am! I, I, well,” he took a deep breath, his exhale shaky. “In truth, I–I suppose I’m not.” Aziraphale swallowed around his anguish. “B-but I can manage on my own! This needn’t concern you and I don’t want you to– Please, respect my wishes, Crowley, please don’t try to… Don’t try to see me.”

“Aziraphale. I can smell demonic activity through the door,” Crowley hissed. “I know someone’s in there, or _was_ there, and if they’ve harmed you, or threatened you, I’m going to hunt them down and _kill_ them, and then we’re going to drink this wine and you’re going to bake something and I’m going to watch you eat it and you’re going to be _fine_.”

There was nothing from either side of the door for about 10 seconds as Aziraphale silently wept over how deeply Crowley cared for him.

When Crowley spoke again, he sounded so gentle, so soothing, Aziraphale nearly opened the door for him right then. “Aziraphale, angel… Whatever you’re facing, you don’t have to do it alone. We’re on our own side now, remember?” His voice tightened. “Just… Let me in, or else move away from the door. You’ve got 30 seconds, and then I’m either miracling or _kicking_ this door down.”

Aziraphale felt something akin to dread course through him. To flee and to vomit both sounded like reasonable courses of action. But only one would do him any good. He bolted from behind the door, to the back of the shop, and in the blink of an eye, as if by instinct, he transformed into a snake and slithered under the sofa. He heard the door bust open soon after, and then Crowley’s frantic footsteps as he called out for him and began searching the shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crowley: i'm gonna sleep til july  
> crowley five days later: :/ this sucks i miss my angle  
> crowley: ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ  
> aziraphale: *scared snek mode activated*
> 
> poor bby someone needs to give him a break  
> oh yeah that's... that'd be me.  
> i promise i'll give him a break in a minute okay i p r o m i s e.


	4. Chapter 4

Crowley forced the door open with a wave of his hand, and half expected to be greeted with hellfire. His heart pounded in his chest, voice tight as he slammed the doors behind him and said, “Alright, angel, who threatened you?”

He was relieved to find that the shop was in its usual, flameless condition. Bit more organized than it usually was, though, he noticed. Almost _too_ organized. And seemingly lacking in Angel.

“Aziraphale, what– Where did you…?! Are you _hiding_?” Why would he be hiding from _him_? He was there to help! Unless they weren’t alone…

“Right,” Crowley warned, “if anyone has taken the angel hostage, I promise you, it’ll be the last thing you do.” He stormed through the shop, nearly knocking over shelves as he twirled in his frantic search. “Aziraphale, I know you’re still here, I can _feel_ it.”

He could also feel something distinctly demonic in the air, but when he focused his attention he found that he couldn’t sense any other supernatural presences. Whoever was here must have left, then. So why was Aziraphale avoiding him?!

“Angel, just come out, and we’ll work through this together. Whatever they said to you, forget it, alright, you’ll be safe with me. I know demons, I know how they work; I can keep you safe.” He lowered his voice to a whisper as he said, more to himself than anyone else, “I can feel your fear, angel.” Not _literally_ , he couldn’t, but he definitely _sensed_ it.

It didn’t make any sense, him having to coax the angel out like that just because he’d had a surprise meeting with a demon or two, even if they _had_ threatened him. Aziraphale was _brave_. Sure, he’d always been a bit hesitant when it came to things like breaking rules, but he was stronger than Crowley ever hoped to be. He’d fought to bring a halt to armageddon, even when Crowley’d given up. Hell, he’d gone to _Hell_! And come back _laughing_! He wasn’t the type to cower in a corner at a demonic threat. It didn’t… It didn’t make any sense.

Maybe he’d been cursed, Crowley wondered. Maybe a demon, or even a human–maybe a witch had used a demonic ritual to cast some sort of spell on him that made him fearful. 

_“Don’t try to see me,”_ he’d said. What the hell did _that_ mean? Did he mean it _literally_ –that Crowley shouldn’t try to look at him? Why wouldn’t he want him to see him?

“Maybe I _can’t_ ,” Crowley mused aloud, leaning against a pillar near the middle of the shop. “What, have you gone invisible?” he shouted, gesturing widely with his arms. “Is that it? Is that a thing? Cursed with invisibility? If that’s it then at least _talk_ to me,” he said, then realized that he might not be able to. “Or, or if you can’t talk, throw a book or something! Give me a _sign_ , give me _something,_ ” he pleaded, sliding down until he was seated on the ground, his back against the pillar. He waited for a noise. For a trinket to get knocked over, or a book to come flying at his head. Nothing. Crowley sighed.

“Maybe you can’t move things. Maybe you’re like a ghost. I know you haven’t discorporated ‘cause I can still sense you here. I know you’re _alive_. So, unless I’m missing something, I’ve got to assume that means you’re cursed with something and can’t interact with me.” Crowley groaned. “But you were just talking to me when I was outside! What, did I trigger the curse by setting foot in here? Is that a thing? Curses were never my area, angel, I’m at a loss, here.” He threw his head back against the column with a thunk, then hissed. The hiss turned into a growl as his frustration grew.

This was supposed to have been a _good_ day. He’d gone months without seeing Aziraphale, and he’d finally gotten the courage to slither over, to push the angel’s buttons just a bit and see if he’d let him in. He’d entertained the fantasy of them spending the rest of the lockdown together. And now here he was, alone with an angel who was either invisible or was purposefully avoiding him and wouldn’t tell him why. Would he just wait until Crowley left to come out, if he _could_ come out? Was there any point in searching for him further? What if Crowley really _had_ set off a curse when he’d stepped inside? What if his presence was causing all this? Should he… No, he couldn’t just _leave_!

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed what appeared to be shattered glass on the floor in the southeast section of the shop. He picked himself up off the ground and moved to get a closer look, taking off his sunglasses and setting them on a table as he walked past. It was a mirror, he realized. It’d _been_ a mirror, and it looked like someone had intentionally broken it. The discovery only raised more questions. Had Aziraphale punched it? That didn’t seem like him. But if he’d been distressed enough…

_“Don’t try to see me.”_ The words echoed over and over in Crowley’s mind. Maybe he really _had_ gone invisible, and had punched what he assumed to be a defective mirror. Maybe… Maybe a demon had appeared to him through a mirror? And he’d destroyed it to get them to leave? But then what did _“don’t try to see me”_ mean?

Crowley dragged his tired feet over to the sofa and collapsed onto it, his head falling into his hands. “Where are you?” he said in a broken whisper, more to himself than for Aziraphale’s sake. He wasn’t even sure Aziraphale could _hear_ him at this point. “Don’t do this to me again. You _can’t_ do this to me again, angel, _please_. I’ll beg if I have to.” He felt tears gather in the corners of his eyes as he continued to plead, his voice cracking but raising in volume, desperate to be heard, “ _Please_ , come out. If you’re at all able, _please_. Let me help you. I’ll find a way to help you, I promise. I can. I won’t stop until I find a way– I’ll– I’ll… Where _are_ you? Why can’t I find you?”

Crowley wasn’t sure when he’d broken down entirely, but some time later, after he’d reached a level of sobbing that he usually had to get _drunk_ to achieve, he felt something touch his leg. He lifted his head out of his hands with a sharp intake of breath, fully alert and ready to attack whatever was– Oh, something was crawling up his leg. No, not crawling, _slithering_. Crowley willed the remaining tears out of his eyes so he could see clearly.

It was… some kind of snake. Crowley frowned. Though he might have at one time been a serpent himself, he hardly considered himself an expert on the species. He thought it might be a viper, one that belonged in the desert. Its scales were keeled, and spotted in several shades of brown and beige. It was about 60 centimeters long, and quite thick around.

Had… Had Aziraphale gotten a pet?

Crowley sat up with a sniffle, leaning back and lifting his hands in a surrendering motion. His existence was weird enough; why _wouldn’t_ this happen?

The snake continued, slowly, almost _timidly_ , up Crowley’s left leg, until it reached his lap. It began to coil around itself, then froze, looked up at Crowley, and moved off of him in favor of curling up in the space to his right. Once settled, the snake turned its head toward Crowley and seemed to be looking him straight in the eye.

Could it… _Naaah, that’s ridiculous_ , Crowley told himself. But, as he looked back at that snake, whose scales reminded him just a little too much of the color of Aziraphale’s usual attire– _That’s called a coincidence!_ –he couldn’t ignore how pointedly it seemed to be staring at him.

After a few seconds of an unprompted staring contest, Crowley shook his head, blew a puff of air from his mouth, and mumbled, “Alright, I feel a bit stupid asking this, but do you happen to be an angel?”

The snake turned away, looking far more sad than a snake ought to be able to, and curled in tighter on itself.

“Right,” Crowley sighed. “Didn’t think so.”

Of _course_ the snake wasn’t an angel; it was a _snake_. Crowley frowned, folding his arms over his chest as he eyed the creature beside him.

…The thing was, if an angel _were_ to be cursed into becoming a snake, he might be quite sad about it, yeah? It wouldn’t have been an unfitting reaction for him to look away and get a bit insecure when his demon friend realized he’d been forcibly transformed, would it? And it would explain why he hadn’t wanted to be seen…

“Uh… If… If you’re Aziraphale… Can you, uh, stick your tongue out?”

The snake lifted its head to look at him again, and, after a moment of what felt an awful lot like Aziraphale’s brand of hesitation, stuck out its tongue.

Crowley blinked, his mouth falling open. “Ah… Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale managed to move his head in a way that looked like a confirming nod.

“You’re a… I mean, obviously, you _know_ , but… Wow. You’re a s–”

Aziraphale cut him off with a hiss, and retreated to coil around himself once more.

“Right,” Crowley said, “sorry. Just…” He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips. “I’m sorry, the irony here is…,” his laughter kept bubbling up, as relief washed over him at finally having found Aziraphale. He was safe. He was going to be okay. He’d have to figure out how to un-snake him, but he was okay. Crowley spoke through giddy giggles, “I mean, an angel, friend of the Serpent of Eden, cursed to be a snake. You’ve– You’ve gotta admit, th-that’s funny.”

Aziraphale looked absolutely miserable, and was hissing quietly against the scaled body he’d curled so tightly around, prompting Crowley to sober up.

“I’m sorry. Listen, Aziraphale, it’s… it’s temporary,” he soothed, lifting a hand as if to pet him, then thought better and brought his arm back to himself. “I’ll get it sorted, I promise. Now, I said I’m not an expert on curses, but I know that none are unbreakable. Not a single one, got it? And you’ve got me,” Crowley grinned. “Demon versus a demonic curse? I’ll have you on your feet in no time, angel.”

Aziraphale looked to him, somehow even more hopelessly than before, and Crowley had never wanted to destroy another demon so intensely. Who the _fuck_ thought they could– _Wait, that’s a good question._ “Aziraphale, who did this to you? Did you see them? Did you recognize them?” Crowley thinned his lips. “Do you think you can manage to speak? You have to use a miracle to do it.”

Crowley’s brows shot up, his mouth forming an “o” as he launched himself off the sofa and to his feet. “Wait, that’s it! Maybe I can…”

Without further warning, Crowley scooped up Aziraphale and set him in the middle of the rug. _Please, Someone, let this work_. He snapped, and grinned as he watched the snake shift into Aziraphale’s usual form.

Sort of.

Something was… different. Several things, actually.

Aziraphale looked just as Crowley’d always known him, more or less. He was wrapped tightly in a light blue silk robe, and, to Crowley’s bewilderment, wore sunglasses. Whatever amusement the shades evoked in the demon, however, was quickly replaced with a frown as he noticed scales lining the side of his neck and face, leading up to horns that rested harshly atop his head.

“How… That’s, ah, not what– I’m sorry, Aziraphale, I don’t... I don’t think I’ve fully restored you.”

Aziraphale sniffled, wrapping his arms around his knees as he curled into the fetal position on the floor. He angled his head down toward the rug, as if purposefully trying to shield his face from Crowley’s view. The little whimper he let out sent a pang of guilt through Crowley’s entire being. He was clearly far more affected by this than he’d realized. And Crowley had laughed at his fate just moments ago! He cursed himself as he crouched down beside him.

“Aziraphale, listen, it’s okay, it’s not permanent. We’ll find whoever did this to you and get it undone, like, you know, _fully_ this time.” Crowley couldn’t help but speak through gritted teeth as he continued, “I’ll track down the demon that cursed you and _end_ them, I promise. Ah, after they fix you. Obviously. We’ll take care of that first.” He dared to put a comforting hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Relax, angel, this is temporary.”

Aziraphale wept harder.

Crowley had never seen him in such a state, and he was at a loss for what to do. Should he wrap his arms around him, cradle him to his chest and let him cry? Would that make it worse somehow? Should he try to distract him instead? What would he even say? What could he _do_?

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, then reached out to run a hand through Aziraphale’s hair, careful to avoid the horns that he wasn’t even sure Aziraphale was aware of. Had he seen himself in this form already? Is that why he’d punched the mirror? Or was he just crying from the stress of having been forced into the form of a snake for who knows how long? But, it couldn’t have been too long, could it? He’d been able to talk to Crowley before he’d entered the shop, but it didn’t seem that he had figured that out in snake form, so that led Crowley to the conclusion that he’d become a snake when he’d opened the door.

A second glance at Aziraphale’s hands at least confirmed that he’d been the one to shatter the mirror; the knuckles of his right hand were bloodied. Both his palms were also wrapped in gauze, however, which, again, brought up more questions. What the _hell_ was going on?

Whatever the case was, Aziraphale seemed to be sobbing a little less, as Crowley continued to stroke through his hair, and the demon hoped that meant he’d be able to get some answers soon. “Shh,” he hushed, “shh. Let it out, s’okay, angel. Let it out. Then we’ll figure this out together, right? You’ll let me help you?”

It was so small Crowley’d barely heard it, but Aziraphale whimpered, “Oh, my dear… You can’t.”

A gentle, comforting smile graced Crowley’s lips, though it was tinged with concern. He _hated_ seeing Aziraphale so hopeless. Whoever was responsible for this was going to _suffer_. “I _can’t_? Now, I doubt that. Demon, remember? I know how demons work. I _know_ there’s a way out of this, and we’re going to find it.”

Aziraphale turned so quickly it startled Crowley into yanking his hand back. He sat up, facing Crowley, and shouted, “Why can’t you understand without making me _say_ it?!” His voice was shaky, distraught, and louder than it needed to be given their proximity. He lowered it to a broken whisper, tilting his head downward as he said, “I don’t want to have to say it. Please don’t make me say it.”

Crowley was completely and utterly lost.

For about seven seconds.

Then it started to come together. All at once, he ran over the evidence in his mind. The shattered mirror. The fact that Aziraphale hadn’t wanted Crowley to see him. The scales climbing the sides of his more-or-less human form. The horns on the top of his head. The sunglasses he was wearing–an accessory he’d never shown interest in before. How certain he was that Crowley couldn’t help him. How he’d broken down when Crowley had tried to reassure him that it was all temporary, and turned away as a snake when asked if he was an angel. The fact that Crowley had smelled something demonic before he’d even entered the shop, but couldn’t sense anything besides the two of them in there. How that demonic scent only got stronger the closer he got to the… angel?

With a better glimpse of him, Crowley noticed the streams of tears down Aziraphale’s cheeks. They reddened his skin, and there was a faint sizzling sound as the tears burned their path down his face. Crowley closed his eyes.

No. He _had_ to be wrong about this. He was overthinking it, he was jumping to conclusions. _He can’t– No! No. Not him. No._ He opened his eyes to stare at Aziraphale’s downcast face. He was still crying, though not as hard as before. He seemed to be calming himself, but wouldn’t raise his head to look at Crowley.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley began, speaking very slowly through the lump in his throat, “you’re not… You’ve not…”

_Fallen._

Aziraphale couldn’t seem to say it, and Crowley didn’t want to force him to. But he needed proof. He needed to be sure of what he was dealing with. He needed to know if there was anything he could _do_.

_Please be wrong about this, please be wrong, be wrong, be wrong, be wrong,_ Crowley repeated to himself as he reached a shaky hand out to swipe a thumb over Aziraphale’s cheek.

It burned.

In a split second, Crowley felt as though he were reliving his fall. The sensation of falling, the sight of his wings blackening around him, the _burning_ , the pain, the tears. As he understood it, the last of his holiness had leaked out of him in tears, searing his face every time he cried until there was no holiness left in him. It’d all happened before time had been invented, but it’d felt like the equivalent of _weeks_ before his tears stopped hurting him.

And now it was happening to…

_No. Not him. She can’t do this to_ him! _She can’t!_ Crowley felt himself begin to cry, and willed himself to stop. He wasn’t going to make Aziraphale feel any worse. Seeing Crowley cry might make him start back up again, and that was the last thing he wanted.

He didn’t know what to say. He ran through all the possible responses in his mind and found that none of them worked. “I’m sorry” wouldn’t even begin to cover it. “I’ll find God and kill Her”, as sincerely as he wanted to, would be a futile promise. “I’m here for you” didn’t feel like enough. _None_ of his words felt like enough. So, he dismissed words entirely in favor of pulling Aziraphale to his chest, wrapping his arms around him. _I love you_ , he wanted to say. _I have always loved you, and I will continue to love you, and you will_ always _have me._

Aziraphale clung to Crowley’s back like his life depended on it, the side of his face pressed against his shoulder, and sobbed quietly.

Crowley began rubbing circles on the fallen angel’s back. _I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I didn’t see it coming. I’m sorry you had to go through it alone. I’m sorry–_

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” Crowley choked out, remembering how desperately Aziraphale had asked him to “respect his wishes”, how he _really_ hadn’t wanted him to enter the shop. He wondered if that was what had made him turn into a snake. He imagined Aziraphale panicking and losing control over his form in a desperate attempt to hide. How that must’ve only added to his horror. Crowley shook his head. “I’m sorry I barged in when you weren’t ready for me to see you. I’m so, _so_ sorry, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale shook his head, pulling away from Crowley’s chest to better face him. “You didn’t know,” he said, putting on a sad smile before bringing up an arm to wipe his cheeks with his sleeve. “You thought I was in danger. I can– I can hardly blame you for that.”

“I can. I should’ve known.”

“You were never _meant_ to know.” Aziraphale spoke with remorse, his head tilted downward. “I was going to bear this burden alone, but then you came here, and I couldn’t keep hiding from you, and I, I, I, I’m sorry.” He looked back up at Crowley, his lower lip trembling. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to trouble you with this.”

Crowley blinked. “Wh– I– Uh, ah, what? _What_?” he sputtered. “Aziraphale, when I fell, I had _no one_. No one to help me back on my feet, no one to, to tell me I was still worth something. _No one_. Not a single friendly face. If you think for one _second_ that I would let you go through this alone, that I wouldn’t _want_ to be there for you, I… You must know I care for you a lot more than that.”

A few tears burned down Aziraphale’s cheek as he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “B-but I’m not… _me_ anymore.”

Crowley’s heart dropped into his stomach. “Oh, ang–Aziraphale…”

“Please,” Aziraphale said through a wobbly lip, “p- _please_ don’t stop calling me that because of this. I–I know that I’m not a, th-that I’m n-not an angel anymore, b-but I… I couldn’t bear if, if you never, if–”

“Shhhh, shhhh,” Crowley hushed him as Aziraphale began to fall apart. He pulled him to his chest and ran a hand through his hair, again being careful to avoid the horns, and rubbed soothing circles on his back with his other hand. “You’ll _always_ be my angel, alright? S’alright. I’m sorry, angel. I won’t stop calling you that, I promise. This doesn’t have to change anything.”

Aziraphale let out a bitter, broken laugh. “Well, clearly it’s already changed some things. A-and I’m afraid I can’t change them back.”

Crowley gave a solemn nod. “S’hard at first. I’ll teach you. You can learn to hide whatever parts don’t feel like you, okay?”

“Except the eyes, apparently,” Aziraphale muttered.

Crowley clenched his jaw. “Yeah, those… Those seem to be more or less permanent. I never could get my irises to look right. I’m sorry, angel.” He wondered what was behind those sunglasses, but thought better than to voice that curiosity. It’d taken him a while to get used to his own eyes. He didn’t _love_ them, but they no longer made him feel like a wretched, unlovable thing. They were just another fact of his existence. Given Aziraphale was at the beginning of his journey, however, Crowley figured that he was nowhere near ready to accept whatever had become of his eyes. 

“I’ve managed to return the whites of my eyes, but the rest, well. I can’t…” Aziraphale sighed, pulling away from Crowley’s chest as he reached a shaky hand up toward his sunglasses. “I-I suppose there’s no sense in hiding them from you.”

“You don’t have to show me if you’re not ready.”

“My dear,” said Aziraphale sadly, “I will never be ready.” Crowley gave him an understanding frown. “And these aren’t exactly comfortable, so,” he slowly pulled the glasses from his face. He kept his eyes closed for a moment as he exhaled, then looked up at Crowley, lip trembling. “Dark as night, I’m afraid. Th-they were _entirely_ black, but I think I can keep them this way with a fair amount of ease, now. A-at least, at least I hope.”

Crowley swallowed thickly, staring unblinkingly at the black irises across from him. They were beautiful. Aziraphale’s eyes had always been beautiful. The change didn’t make them any more beautiful than before, but neither did it make them any _less_. They were just… a different _kind_ of beautiful. Crowley doubted Aziraphale was ready to see it that way, though, so he took a deep breath and willed his adoration to go down just a few notches.

“Please say something,” Aziraphale whispered, tears gathering in his eyes.

Crowley blinked and shook his head as if to shake himself out of a trance. He put his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders and looked directly into those black eyes as he said, “They’re not bad. Really.”

Aziraphale huffed a broken laugh and looked away. “Right.”

“I mean it. I know they don’t feel like they’re _yours_ , I know you wish you could hide them away, but, trust me, they’re not nearly as bad as you think. It’s just that it’s all so new, s’all.”

The truth was, they weren’t bad at _all_. Not to Crowley, anyway. But if he were to start gushing about how he’d love to drown in those eyes no matter their color, he was pretty sure it’d lead him to have to explain why those eyes–or rather, their owner–meant so much to him, which would then lead to a confession of a sort of love that he wasn’t even sure was returned to him, and the timing was certainly not right for that conversation. This was no time to talk about his stupid feelings. It was about Aziraphale.

“Well,” said Aziraphale, tossing the sunglasses to the floor beside him, “I suppose you _are_ able to be a bit more objective about it than I am at the moment.” He looked back to Crowley with a grim frown. “But I still hate them. And everything else. I was able to retract the claws, and the fangs only made an appearance in the beginning, but the… the, the scales, and…” Aziraphale made a brief glance upward, apparently unwilling to name the new additions to his forehead. He wrapped his arms around himself and looked at the space of floor to this right. “I hate them. A-and I have to find a way to be rid of them. I _must_.”

Crowley was still stuck on the revelation that Aziraphale had apparently been given black eyes, claws, fangs, scales, _and_ horns in his fall. Most demons had two or three identifying features. What in the _hell_ had Aziraphale done to warrant such a punishment?! Crowley shook his head. “It doesn’t… It doesn’t even make sense; you weren’t a horned snake! Looked a bit like a sand adder. Er, viper? Whatever, point is, you didn’t have horns in that form, so why should you now?”

Aziraphale kept his eyes fixed on the ground, worrying his lower lip with his teeth to keep it from quivering.

Crowley ached at the sight of him so miserable. “Hey,” he said, as soothingly as he could manage, “it’s alright, angel. We’ll figure it out. I’ll help you learn how to hide them, I promise you. In the meantime…,” he put on a smile and extended a hand toward Aziraphale’s horns, “they’re not so bad, y’know?”

Aziraphale jolted out of his reach. “ _Don’t!_ ”

Crowley snatched his hand back to himself. “Sorry. I wasn’t gonna touch them. I wouldn’t do that. I was just, you know, gesturing–”

“Don’t touch them, don’t _talk_ about them, don’t acknowledge them at all,” Aziraphale snapped. Then, in a softer, but still firm voice, “Please.”

Crowley blinked. “Right,” he said. “Okay, then.”

Aziraphale let out a deep breath, easing his posture a bit. “Thank you. And I’m… I’m sorry,” he winced.

“You don’t have to apologize, angel. I get it.”

“I just… I don’t feel like myself, a-and I don’t know… I don’t know how to, to, to _fix_ it all.”

“Well, you don’t have to figure it out on your own. I’ll do what I can.” He put on a silly grin, hoping to ease Aziraphale’s nerves. “Demon 101 with Professor Anthony J. Crowley.”

Aziraphale grimaced.

Crowley cursed himself. “Right. Won’t be using that word, then.”

Aziraphale gave him an apologetic look. “It’s not that I… I, I mean, I– Well, _you’re_ , you know, a-and that’s quite fine with me, b-but, I can’t–”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Aziraphale. I get it. S’too soon. That word carries a lot of…,” Crowley exhaled, “I dunno, it’s heavy, is my point. You might be fine with _me_ being… y’know, that. But you’ve no doubt lived through millennia of Heaven saying that word like it leaves a bad taste in their mouths. Like it means we’re worthless, disgusting, _unforgivable._ Un _lovable_.” He thinned his lips, fuming at the mere _suggestion_ that Aziraphale could be anything but precious, desirable, worthy of mercy and grace and all the best the world had to offer. And utterly, completely _lovable_.

Crowley shook his head, realizing his last sentence really hadn’t been a good one to pause on. Aziraphale looked perhaps even more desolate than before. _Fuck. Fix it, you idiot!_ “Anyway, uh. I’ve been able to reclaim that word for myself. When I say I’m a… y’know, _that_ , it’s… It’s different. Because _I’m_ deciding what it means for me. But you were _just_ designated that, and, believe me, I know how much it hurts. It’s gonna hurt, Aziraphale. It’s going to hurt for a while.” He reached out a hand to stop a tear before it fell from Aziraphale’s cheek. It burned his thumb, but he’d have done it again if it meant saving that perfect face from any more pain. “I can’t even tell you how long it took me to adjust. It was a long, hard process.” Crowley put his hand under Aziraphale’s chin and lifted it until he could look him in the eye. “But, unlike me, you’re not going to be alone. Whatever you need, angel. I’m here.”

Crowley brushed his thumb over Aziraphale’s chin, lightly, mindlessly, until he realized what he was doing and dropped his hand back to his lap. Aziraphale was silent, and averted his gaze to the floor.

They sat like that for a few minutes, Crowley giving Aziraphale the space to process whatever was going on in his head. Then, finally, Aziraphale lifted his head to look at him with a curious frown and asked, “Earlier, when I was stuck as a… a… Ah, that is… How were you able to, ah, shift me out of…?”

“Oh. I dunno, really. I mean, I intended to, so. Y’know, typical miracle stuff.” Crowley shifted where he sat, and shot a pondering glance up at the ceiling. “I guess I was able to do it because I’ve been in your position before, so, I had it in me to do it for you, too. I guess.”

Aziraphale nodded slowly. Then, “Do you think you could use a miracle tohelp me hide the… Well, those things?”

Crowley sucked in a breath. “I mean, I could try,” he said, not wanting to get Aziraphale’s hopes up. “But even if it works, it might not last, and,” he spoke slowly, then, careful not to upset his friend, “I think… it’s important… you learn to do it yourself, in case something happens, you know… and I’m not there to–”

“Yes, yes, of course, in time, yes,” interrupted Aziraphale with a dismissive wave of his hand, “but…” He shifted uncomfortably. “C-can you, now? Please? I can’t bear to be like this any longer, and anyway I’m sure you’d much rather be rid of this, this _grotesque_ sight, than, than, than–”

“I’ll try,” Crowley cut off Aziraphale’s rambling. “But only if you agree to stop being unkind to yourself.” The flat look Aziraphale gave him said “sod off”, but his eyes were wide and teary and pleading for reassurance. “I mean it,” Crowley said. “You’re not grotesque, angel. Nothing about you is grotesque.”

“Well I’m not sure that means much coming from a demon,” Aziraphale snapped, then winced, then burst into tears.

Crowley opened and closed his mouth a few times before settling on pulling Aziraphale close to his chest again and letting him cry into his shirt.

“I, I’m sorry, I–” Aziraphale cut himself off with a sob. “I don’t know why I, I–”

“Shhh,” Crowley soothed, daring to press a kiss to the hair above Aziraphale’s ear. “S’fine, angel. You’re alright.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “It’s not, and I’m not, and I think I may never be again.”

“We’ll just have to see about that,” he said, his voice soft and low. Then, he gathered every ounce of willpower he could muster and directed it at the horns that so afflicted his angel.

They didn’t bother him. Really, under different circumstances (like, say, one where the love of his life wasn’t sobbing about them), he might think they were endearing. Cute, even. Like everything else about the magnificent being he held in his arms. But, as it was, they were causing Aziraphale no small amount of distress, and so Crowley _hated_ them.

_Get the fuck off of his precious head_ , he thought as he glared at the horns. _Give him a break. Conceal yourselves. Now. Or I’ll take a bloody chainsaw to you._

It’d been an empty threat, of course–he’d never do anything that might cause Aziraphale pain. But the intention seemed to have an effect, as the horns shriveled up until it was as though they’d never been there in the first place. Crowley smiled, then, before refocusing his glare on the scales that lined his angel’s face. “You, too,” he commanded aloud.

Aziraphale sniffled. “What?”

“Nothin’,” Crowley said gently, rubbing a hand on Aziraphale’s back. “Just telling those scales to sod off like the horns did.” He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle as he noted, “And there they go.”

Aziraphale pulled away and blinked at Crowley. “I– You– Really?” He wore a cautiously hopeful smile as he raised a shaky hand to his forehead. Crowley beamed when Aziraphale’s hand met smooth skin. “Oh!” Aziraphale choked out a relieved sob, then smiled through his tears. “Oh, Crowley! Crowley, thank you!”

Crowley felt something rise in his chest. A few somethings, actually. Things like relief and pride and hope and adoration and _love_. He knew there was a long journey ahead, and he knew it wouldn’t be easy. But he also knew that Aziraphale was going to be okay. He knew this from experience. He knew it because Aziraphale was strong–so much stronger than he even realized. And he knew it because he’d _decided_ that Aziraphale would be okay, and there was nothing in Heaven above, or Hell below, or the Earth on which they’d made their home– _nothing_ that would keep Crowley from ensuring his angel’s wellbeing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crowley is, like, _fiercely_ soft for one (1) fallen angel, pass it on.
> 
> btw i went ahead and changed the rating to explicit 'cause i'm working on some spicy scenes for upcoming chapters. >:)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crowley👏is👏a👏softie👏pass👏it👏on👏

Aziraphale couldn’t stop running his fingers over the side of his face. Smooth. As it should be. He was beaming, tears of relief streaking his cheeks–the sting overshadowed by the _wonderful_ feeling of being a little more himself. Because of Crowley.

“Thank you,” he said again. “Crowley, thank you! I can’t even begin to express my gratitude.”

“Well, you’ve done pretty well, anyway, I’d say.” Crowley beamed.

Aziraphale was overcome with love as he threw himself into Crowley’s arms and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. He thanked him again when he pulled away. Then, realizing the unprecedentedly awkward moment he’d just created between them, he cleared his throat and picked himself up off the floor. He tightened his robe around himself and raised his brows in an innocent expression, as though he couldn’t still feel the warmth of Crowley’s skin on his lips. “Ah, shall we move to a proper seating?” He took a seat in the chair he’d repaired just hours prior, and gestured to the sofa.

Crowley, wide-eyed for a brief moment, shook his head and mumbled a, “Ahm, ah, r–w– Yeah,” before getting up and becoming a pile of gangly limbs on the sofa. “So, ah, how’s the, ah… How’s the cake been?”

Aziraphale frowned quizzically before remembering that food existed. Right, he’d been baking. There were other things in his life besides, ah, well, falling. And Crowley seemed intent to distract him with talk of those hobbies. Aziraphale smiled softly to himself, a fond feeling swelling in his chest as he said, “Oh, it’s been quite a little adventure! I tried a new recipe just earlier today. There are quite a few slices left, if you’d like– Ah, but, food isn’t really your, um, thing, though, is it?”

Crowley shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind watching you enjoy it, though.”

“I’m not really in the mood at the moment,” Aziraphale noted. “B-but we could, ah, maybe work on a recipe together? Later, I mean.”

His most recent baking experience had served more as a distraction than anything else, but in the weeks before, when his biggest problem had been the lockdown, he’d often found himself fantasizing about having Crowley beside him in his kitchenette. He’d pictured the demon in an apron, smudges of flour and batter sprinkled about him. He’d even gone so far as to imagine cleaning Crowley’s face with his thumb, or… or licking the batter from his skin. He’d thought of being finger-fed the results of their efforts, and nearly burnt a set of cupcakes when he’d gotten lost in the fantasy of what might happen after that.

But that’d been a different time. He’d been a different… Well, he’d been an _angel_ , then. Not nearly as wretched a thing as he felt now. He’d been uncertain of making his feelings for Crowley fully known, unsure of whether those feelings were returned. Now… _He couldn’t possibly._ Whatever hope he’d had that Crowley might desire him in the way _he’d_ long desired _him_ had shriveled up and been replaced with claws and scales and horns and–

“Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale startled at the sound of his name. “Hm?” He blinked back at Crowley, whose face was too neutral to read. Was it a good neutral or a bad neutral? What was going on in his head? Was he annoyed by Aziraphale’s distractedness? Disgusted by the state he’d found him in, perhaps?

Crowley had been firm in reassuring him that he wanted to be there for him. He’d even tried to encourage him about his– about the horns. _He was just trying to make you feel better,_ Aziraphale told himself. _He’s probably just as sickened by the sight of you like this as you are. Even with the scales and horns hidden, you’re pathetic. Wrapped in nothing but a robe and hardly able to make eye conta–_

“I asked what we’d be baking,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale blinked. _Ah, right._ Did he really care? Would he really _want_ to bake alongside him? To spend any more time than was necessary around him? _He doesn’t have to be here to begin with,_ the more hopeful (and reasonable) side of Aziraphale argued. _He’d have found an excuse to leave if he didn’t want to be here._

Aziraphale hated that he was doubting his friend’s sincerity. He was all he had and now all he could think was that he _didn’t_ have him, that he was truly alone, that Crowley could never really–

“Angel,” a soft voice brought him out of his thoughts again. “Aziraphale. Snap out of it,” Crowley said a bit more firmly. “Whatever you’re thinking, I’m willing to bet you’re _wrong_.”

Aziraphale looked to Crowley with tired eyes and a trembling lip. “I… Oh, Crowley, it’s been so _miserable_ ,” he sobbed, dropping his head into his hands. He sniffled, then, and gathered enough strength to look back up at his friend, who wore an extremely concerned frown. Aziraphale wiped his cheeks with his sleeve and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I… I’m… I’ve been fighting some rather persistent negative thoughts, you know. Ever since…”

It was silent between them for a moment. Then, “When…,” Crowley spoke slowly, his voice hardly above a whisper. “When did it happen?”

Aziraphale sniffled, looking down at his hands as he fidgeted with them. “I really don’t know. A few days? I’ve been so…,” he sighed, glancing back up at Crowley, “I’ve been so overwhelmed with it all, I lost track of time.”

Crowley gave a solemn nod. “Happens,” he said, as though speaking from experience.

“It…” Aziraphale took a deep breath, and gave Crowley an uncertain smile. “It happened shortly after our last phone call.”

Crowley blinked. “That… Angel, that was nearly a week ago!”

“Hm. Seemed longer, if I’m being honest.”

“Y- Ah, yeah, it… I can imagine.”

Aziraphale gave him a sad smile. “I suppose you truly _can_.”

Crowley wasn’t looking at him. Well, he _was_. He was staring directly at him. But he was clearly somewhere else, mentally. Aziraphale cocked a brow, and a few moments later Crowley blinked and stuttered, “Th- Wh- _Why_? Why _then_? Armageddon is long past. Why… why _now_?! You’ve been sat at home for over a month, what could you possibly have–”

“I’d rather not discuss it.”

“You’d rath– ‘ _Discuss’_ it?” Crowley’s brows nearly reached his hairline. “Then you know?! You’ve some idea of… of why She would do this to you after all this time?”

Aziraphale took in a breath and looked away. “Crowley, please.”

“Aziraphale… I need an explanation. Even if it’s a shit explanation, I mean, that’s how She works, but I have to know–”

“It’s not _for_ you to know,” Aziraphale snapped. “It doesn’t concern you at all!”

Crowley lifted a brow, a grave but gentle expression on his face. Then, slowly, carefully, as though Aziraphale were a stray cat he didn’t want to frighten off, “Your demonic form… it’s a snake, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale tensed. “I’m well aware.”

Crowley eased control of his scleras, allowing his eyes to embrace their full snakelike beauty. It’d always taken Aziraphale’s breath away in the past, but at that moment, Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to hold his gaze. “So…,” said Crowley, gesturing pointedly at himself.

Aziraphale shook his head. “I knew it,” he said, his voice tight. “This is why I didn’t want you to ever see me like that! It’s given you the wrong idea.”

“Aziraphale…”

“No. It has absolutely _nothing_ to do with you!”

“Hasn’t it? Angel, even on the most basic level, you’ve got to admit that I’ve _some_ part in your fall. Whether it was the Arrangement, or Armageddon, or…,” Crowley sputtered, “or, or, y’know, _us_ , we–”

“Crowley, I am asking you to drop it,” said Aziraphale tiredly. “Please. I can’t… You’re not… Please.”

Crowley thinned his lips and shifted where he sat. “No, see, now I _know_ there’s something you’re not telling me. And I’m not about to let you hold it back, let it rot you from the inside out, until you find yourself resenting me for something you won’t even _tell_ me about.” He sought out Aziraphale’s gaze and softened his voice. “Angel, you can’t tell me this hasn’t anything to do with me. You’re avoiding something. And believe me when I say you can’t outrun this, whatever it is. You’ve… You’re fallen, Aziraphale. It’s just gonna follow you through this cursed eternity until you _deal with it_.”

“Well. Perhaps in time.”

Crowley huffed a weary sigh. “Right. Fine. Sure. Just… Don’t become like me.”

Aziraphale finally met Crowley’s gaze with a confused and concerned frown. “What?”

“Y’know. Bitter. Cynical. Don’t lose your ridiculous idealism. Your… you know, your _faith_. Whatever’s left of it after all this, keep it close. ‘Cause I can’t watch that happen to you.” A weighted pause. “Especially if it’s my fault.”

“Crowley…”

“Look, be angry. I’m not saying you shouldn’t feel… whatever you feel. It’s a whole thing, y’know, the… the what-comes-next thing, after falling. It’s… I’m not trying to tell you to be happy about it. I’d be worried if you _were_. Just… don’t _settle_ in it, is my point. Don’t let yourself get too comfortable in that bitterness. ‘Cause I’m speaking from personal experience when I say it’s a lot easier to fall into that pit than it is to climb out of it.” Crowley took in and then released a shaky breath. “Look, be upset for a while. Be angry with Heaven, be angry with… with _me,_ if you need to…”

Aziraphale’s heart sank into his stomach. “I’m not angry with you, Crowley. Not at all.” He thinned his lips then, and, with a stiff voice, said, “I’m angry with God.”

“W- Right.” Crowley gave an emphatic nod. “Good, then. Me, too. You’ve no idea.”

“I’ve _some_ idea.”

Crowley’s face darkened. “Hm, no. You planning on finding a way to kill Her?”

Aziraphale’s lips parted, an uneasy feeling rising in his chest. The only thing worse than falling would be losing Crowley, and Aziraphale wasn’t altogether sure that God wouldn’t end him entirely if he crossed a line. “Don’t do anything rash, dear.”

“No, She’s crossed the line, here,” Crowley declared, his voice tight and thick with determination that both of them knew would get him nowhere in this particular fantasy of vengeance. “I’ll make Her pay if it kills me. Whatever you fell for, whatever you did, you _know_ it didn’t warrant this. I swear to you, angel, I will track God down and–”

“ _YOU’RE_ MY GOD, CROWLEY!” Aziraphale finally broke, effectively getting Crowley to snap his rambling mouth shut. He swallowed, trying desperately to hold back those stinging tears. “I… That night, after our phone call, I… I realized I would choose you above all else, even against God’s own instruction. I officially placed you above the Almighty, and She didn’t much care for that. It came down to being loyal to you or to Her. And so I fell.”

Aziraphale could see the panic in Crowley’s eyes, the sudden onset self-loathing, the regret, the _fear_ that Aziraphale may regret it, that he blamed him for the agony of the past week. So Aziraphale got up, crossed over to the sofa, and knelt in front of him. He reached up to gently cup Crowley’s face in his hands as he said, softly but surely, “And I would do it again.”

Crowley released the breath he’d been holding in a disbelieving sputter.

“I _would_ , Crowley.” Aziraphale stroked his cheek, looking lovingly into his eyes.

Crowley wasn’t looking back at him, too busy staring down at his hands. “You _hate_ that you’re a de– That you’ve fallen,” he said after a moment, as a tear fell down his cheek.

“Yes.” Aziraphale grimaced at the mention of his new designation. Then, he allowed a soft smile to grace his lips, and dared to brush his thumb over Crowley’s tightly thinned lips ever so lightly. “But I love _you_ more, my dear.”

That seemed to snap Crowley out of his daze. He looked back at Aziraphale, eyes wide, mouth open in awe. “You…?”

Aziraphale’s gentle smile spread into a full, unabashedly adoring grin. “Mm, yes. Quite desperately, I’m afraid.”

And then Crowley, _finally_ , desperate and overwhelmed, surged forward and covered Aziraphale’s mouth with his own. He might’ve knocked the two of them onto the floor by the force of it if Aziraphale hadn’t pressed just as firmly back, climbing onto Crowley’s lap and prompting him to lie back on the sofa.

All was right with the world for a moment.

Aziraphale was still fallen, he knew, somewhere in the back of his mind. But all he could focus on was the feeling of being in the arms of love–love he had only _dreamt_ of receiving from the demon whose mouth was pressed to his. _Kissing_ , his brain supplied. _He’s kissing me. We’re having a kiss._ Aziraphale beamed against Crowley’s lips and brought his hands up to brush over a snake tattoo and run through red hair. He couldn’t seem to get close enough to him… Was it _possible_ to be any closer? He _must_ find a way, he decided.

Crowley had a steadying hand on the back of Aziraphale’s neck, his thumb running soothingly over the skin there. His other hand roamed Aziraphale’s shoulder and chest over the silk fabric of his robe. He pulled back just enough to shoot Aziraphale a questioning look, teasing at the tie of his robe.

Aziraphale nodded eagerly. Then, not finding enough patience in himself to wait for Crowley to free him from the fabric, he shrugged the robe off of his shoulders, letting it fall down around his waist. And then Crowley’s hands were on his skin, running up and down his arms, his shoulders, the middle of his chest, then his sides, over his scales– _Oh_. Aziraphale pulled back with a startled gasp and a look of horror. He scrambled off of the sofa and stood on the other side of the room.

“It’s okay,” Crowley hushed as he stood, raising his hands in a calming motion. “It’s okay. I’m not touching you. I won’t touch them. I’m sorry. I thought I’d hidden all of them, angel. Must’ve only gotten the ones I could see at the time.”

Aziraphale’s lip trembled. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Crowley’s gaze. “I can’t… I, I’m _sorry_.”

“It’s alright. Hey, we don’t have to do anything more, here. We shouldn’t have, anyway, with– I don’t think you’re in a place for that kind of… You know.”

But Aziraphale had _wanted_ to. He’d been considering which configuration he’d prefer for sex, and what Crowley might want, and what compromises they could make if their preferences didn’t match up. He’d been imagining how it’d feel to be inside of him, or vice versa. He’d nearly tasted Crowley’s release on his tongue. And then…

No, he didn’t get to have that, did he? That was his punishment. To become so repulsive that he couldn’t bear to be seen by Crowley, let alone touched. Crowley would never want to have him in such a way, surely, when they got down to it. Would he even be able to manifest human genitalia for himself, or would that be grotesque, too? He gave a distressed whimper at the thought of scales anywhere near his groin.

“Angel,” he heard Crowley say, though his voice sounded distant. “Hey, come back to me, angel. Aziraphale.” The voice grew clearer, and one last mention of his name brought Aziraphale back into the moment. “There you are,” Crowley said with a gentle smile. There was some uncertainty behind it, though, and it made Aziraphale ache to see his love so desperate to help such a helpless thing as himself. “Let’s get you dressed. Then we can see about teaching you to hide those things on your own.”

_Those things_. Crowley must be as disgusted by them as Aziraphale was, then. “You can name them,” said Aziraphale, somewhat absently as he pulled his robe back up over his shoulders and tightened it around his waist. He blinked, then met Crowley’s gentle gaze. “The scales. I know they’re disgusting, but you can… You can say the word. I can handle that much.” Then, quieter, “Unless _you_ can’t bear to say–”

“Unh-uh,” Crowley cut him off. “Nope. None of that. They don’t bother me, angel. I can’t stress that enough. They. _Don’t_. Bother me. And I’ll tell you as many times as I have to until you _accept_ it.” He took a tentative step closer to Aziraphale. “I just didn’t say the word because I didn’t want to upset you. I know you hate the, ah–you know, the word for what we are. I wasn’t sure if anything else associated with it would–”

“For Heaven’s sake, Crowley! You don’t have to _tiptoe_ around me!”

“Okay, I’ll… I won’t, then. But just…” Crowley moved closer. Then, slowly, he brought his hands up to grasp Aziraphale by the shoulders. “At least let me be _gentle_. I needed that. I wouldn’t have admitted it before today, but I needed some tenderness when I fell, angel. And I know you need it, too. Just…” He slid his hands down to take Aziraphale’s in his own, then miracled away the gauze wrapped around his palms. “Let me take care of you.” He brought one palm to his mouth, and pressed a soft kiss to it. The wound disappeared immediately, to Aziraphale’s astonishment. “I _want_ to take care of you.” He gave the other palm the same treatment, then squeezed Aziraphale’s newly healed hands and looked him in the eye. “ _Especially_ since we’ve just, ah, sorted out that we feel… the same way? About each other, I mean. We, uh–I mean, I thought…”

Crowley trailed off, and Aziraphale realized that they hadn’t really discussed it. He’d simply said he loved him, and then Crowley had kissed him. And of course he’d been kissing back, but… They hadn’t put their feelings into words. For all Crowley knew, Aziraphale had fallen simply for considering their _friendship_ so important, and had only kissed him back because he was swept up in the moment…

It seemed, he thought, that perhaps Crowley needed it stated in explicit detail, so that he could know beyond a shadow of a doubt just what “love” meant to Aziraphale.

And perhaps Aziraphale needed that, too.

“I love you, Crowley,” he said finally, squeezing Crowley’s hands. “I want to hold you and be held by you. I enjoyed kissing you and have thought about it many times before this, and hope to do it many more times in the future. And more. _So_ much more, Crowley. I would be _yours_ if you would be mine. Wholly and completely. I love… I– I know it’s rather human of me to say, but I am _in_ love with you.” Aziraphale shook his head with a determined frown. There _had to_ be a way to express it properly. Crowley deserved to know. “No, no. It’s more than that. It’s… I love you in such a way that I cannot even put it into words, my dear.”

Crowley blinked back at him, then beamed, a mischievous glint in his eye as he quipped, “Ineffably, then, hmm?”

“Exactly.” Aziraphale smiled. “My love for you is ineffable.”

Crowley grinned even wider, and let go of Aziraphale’s hands in favor of holding his robed sides and pulling him just a bit closer, until they were nearly nose-to-nose. “I never thought I’d be so thrilled to hear that word again, I’ll tell you that,” he said with a laugh.

Aziraphale chuckled with him. “I never thought I’d tell you any of this. I’d been contemplating writing you a letter, before…” His smile faded, but only briefly. It was strange, having this revelation in their relationship so soon after such a monumentally tragic event. But Aziraphale refused to let his fall overshadow it. After all, that was what he’d fallen _for_ , wasn’t it? “A-anyway, I… I wasn’t sure about telling you because I didn’t think you’d… Well, that is, I wasn’t sure you felt quite the same way. About the more… ah, romantic side of things, that is.” His voice was small as he added, “And sexual.”

“Well,” said Crowley, leaning in closer and pressing a kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek before whispering in his ear, “you thought wrong, didn’t you?” He kissed his ear, then, and said, “I exist for loving you.”

Aziraphale melted. “I-I don’t know about that,” he said as Crowley moved his kisses down to his jaw. “There must be more that interests you?” A kiss to Aziraphale’s neck brought a soft gasp out of him. “Oh,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Mmm, nope.” Another kiss on the neck, trailing down to where a bit of collarbone peeped out from Aziraphale’s robe. Crowley nipped at it, then sucked the reddening flesh, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but moan at the sensation. “S’all I need. Just you,” said Crowley, a bit absently as he continued to nip and suck and lick at the soft, sensitive skin of Aziraphale’s neck. “Just wanna love you however you’ll let me. Your pace, angel.” He gave the crook of his neck a wet, open-mouthed kiss. “Always your pace. Whatever you want. Whenever you want. Always, always. _Yours_. Always.”

Aziraphale could hardly form coherent thought, let alone speak. Crowley’s warm mouth on his neck reduced him to a string of moans and whimpers and whines and–“Ohhhh, _yes_ , Crowley, mmmffu–fuck. I need… I– More.”

“Really? You really want more?” Crowley asked, pulling away from the rather dark purple mark he’d sucked onto the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. “You sure you’re ready for…? I mean, with everythi–”

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s face with both hands and pressed his mouth to those sweet, gentle lips. “I’m _certain_ ,” he said. “I could use a bit of a distraction, anyway.”

“I don’t want to be a distraction,” Crowley was quick to say. “Distractions are temporary, angel. Useless the moment you don’t need to be distracted anymore.” He shook his head. “I want to be _yours_. Always. When you need a distraction, yes, and when you’re perfectly content, too, and when you’re angry or aroused or bored or– or when you’re upset and you just want to be held. I want to be here. _Always_.”

“And I’ll be so glad to have you, my dear.” Tears welled in Aziraphale’s eyes and began trickling down his cheeks, eliciting a pained hiss.

Crowley grimaced. “I’m sorry. Those tears, they’re… They’re part of the fall. Happened to me, too.”

Aziraphale wiped his cheeks with his sleeve, then looked up with hopeful eyes. “Then, they’re temporary?”

Crowley nodded. “It’s how the last of your, ah…”

“Holiness,” Aziraphale deduced.

“Yeah. The smallest bits leftover from the fall, they escape through tears. Not enough to do too much damage–not like holy water. But it burns, I know. I’m sorry, angel.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Crowley cocked his head. “Well,” he began, but Aziraphale silenced him with a look.

“It’s _not_ your fault,” Aziraphale repeated, taking Crowley’s hand in his own. Then, darkly, he said, “It’s Hers. Ours is a jealous God.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I believe we were about to have sex?” He cocked a brow, a hint of a smirk crossing his face.

Crowley blinked, then swallowed thickly. “Aaaah, yeah. Yeah, that was– That was where we were headed, huh?”

“Mm. Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

Crowley grinned. “Not likely.”

Aziraphale smiled fondly. “No, neither have I.” He gave a sigh, then squeezed Crowley’s hand. “Well, shall we, then?” He gestured toward the staircase with his free hand. “I’ve a flat upstairs, you know. I think it’s about time I invited you up there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sexytimes ahead ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here, have some sexy times, with a side of romance and a little helping of angst.

Crowley was absolutely giddy with excitement as Aziraphale led him, hand in hand, up the stairs to his modest and cozy flat. _Things are happening, things are happening,_ his brain repeated dumbly. _Things are happening. Sex things are happening. Sex things are about to happen with Aziraphale. My angel._ My _angel. Finally._

Only… he wasn’t an angel anymore, Crowley remembered, and was nearly knocked off his feet with the wave of guilt that hit him. Aziraphale had barely had time to process what had happened to him, and now they were just gonna… what, try to _fuck_ it all better? Crowley winced as Aziraphale opened the door to his bedroom and turned to him with an eager smile.

“What is it?” Aziraphale asked, his smile faltering.

“I just… Are you absolutely _sure_ this is what you want right now?”

Aziraphale all but rolled his eyes as he shrugged the robe from his shoulders and let it hang around his waist. “I’m sure. I’ve already said as much.”

“I know, I know, I just…” Crowley sucked in a breath. “I just don’t want to take advantage of you in such a, y’know, such a vulnerable state.”

“Please,” said Aziraphale, his voice low as he took Crowley’s hand and placed it on his bare chest, “take advantage.”

“Aziraphale…”

Aziraphale’s brows pulled into a worried frown as he asked, “Do you… Do you not want this as badly as I do?”

Crowley would’ve laughed at the irony of the situation if he wasn’t so concerned. “I’m willing to bet I want it _more_ , and have for some time now, _believe_ me, I just… I just want to make sure there isn’t something else you need right now, more than… more than this.”

Aziraphale thinned his lips and looked at the floor between them. “You can’t give me what I need most right now, Crowley. No one can. It’s… It’s not possible.”

“I know,” Crowley said softly, a lump forming in his throat as he reached up to run a hand through Aziraphale’s hair. “I know. Which is why… I don’t know, I just thought… Maybe you’d rather be held for a bit?”

Aziraphale offered him a warm smile. “You are most welcome to hold me after we make love, my dear.” He leaned forward to give him a quick kiss on the lips. “But I assure you, there is nothing I want more in this moment than to be as close to you as our bodies will allow. Well,” he added, “nothing more I want that I can _have_ , anyway.” He glanced down then to where Crowley’s hand was running up and down his arm. “Oh,” he said, sounding suddenly disconnected from himself. “Well… I suppose there is one thing I would…”

Crowley took his hand off Aziraphale’s arm, remembering the scales he’d missed, and nodded. “Right. I can, uh. I can take care of those, I think.” He sought out Aziraphale’s eyes and added, “I just want to reiterate, though, that they really don’t bother me. At all.”

“Well, they bother _me,_ ” said Aziraphale icily. “And I won’t be having any sort of sex with you until they’re gone.”

Crowley sighed, defeatedly. “Yeah, alright.” He waved a hand, and the scales popped back under the skin from which they’d emerged. “They’re gone for the moment. Don’t know how long they’ll stay away, though. You’re really going to have to learn how to do it yours–”

“Mm. I look forward to my first lesson, _after_ I’ve had you in my mouth.” Aziraphale’s smirk dropped into a thoughtful frown. “Or, _on_ my mouth. What sort of, um…?”

Crowley blushed, then brought a hand up to fuss with the hair on the back of his head as he shrugged. “Uhh, I dunno, I, ah… I never…”

Aziraphale brightened. “No? Not ever?”

“Nope.” Crowley shrugged. “Didn’t see the point without you.”

Aziraphale smiled so warmly Crowley thought he might melt from the sight of it. “Oh! I felt the same way!”

Crowley grinned despite the growing blush on his face. “Couple of blushing virgins, then.”

“Mm. Not for much longer, though, I hope.” Aziraphale then grasped Crowley’s waist and walked backward, pulling him along with him until they reached the foot of his bed.

Crowley grinned. “No, not much longer at all.” He dove in for another kiss–deeper, heavier, more heated–leaving the two of them gasping for air when he finally pulled back.

“Mmmph,” Aziraphale gave a breathy moan, then licked his lips. “So. How should we…?”

_Right. Sex things are happening. Right._ Crowley considered their options. He may not have been experienced, but he was far from uneducated. Sexual knowledge was a must-have when your job revolved around temptation. “I’ve heard clitoral orgasms are particularly phenomenal,” said Crowley. “I think…” he paused to lick his lips, “I want to make you come like that. I could rub your clit… Lick it, even.” _Oh, that was a bit too crude, wasn’t it?_ Crowley shrugged in an attempt to downplay his longing. “Y’know, f’y’want.”

Aziraphale groaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back as if living through the fantasy in his mind. “Mmm, that sounds _wonderful_.” It sent chills down Crowley’s spine. Then Aziraphale straightened his posture and looked at him nervously. “B-but, I… I don’t want to _finish_ that way. I want…”

Crowley couldn’t help the warmth that spread throughout his entire being as he watched Aziraphale struggle to voice his desires. _Come on, Aziraphale. I wouldn’t deny you anything it was in my power to give you.What do you need, angel?_

Aziraphale fussed with his hands for a moment before finally opening his mouth again. “I want… I want you to be inside of me when I…” he gestured down toward his crotch, earning an amused smile from Crowley, “a-and when _you_ … Well, that is, I… I want to feel your release inside me, Crowley.”

Crowley sucked in a sharp breath. _Well, fuck._ “Yeah, that– That sounds good, yeah.” It sounded more than good. In fact, the mere thought of it prompted something long and thick to spring to life in Crowley’s trousers that hadn’t even been there a moment ago.

Aziraphale wore a relieved smile for about 0.2 seconds before a confident smirk overtook it. “Mm. Then…?” He loosened the tie of his robe and let the fabric fall to the floor, leaving him entirely exposed. He moved his hand between his legs, and when he pulled it away, Crowley licked his lips at the sight of Aziraphale’s newly formed vulva.

“Yeah, so, I’m, ah…” Crowley gulped. “I’m definitely gonna be putting my mouth on that. You know, if you don’t mind.”

Aziraphale groaned and shook his head. “I-I certainly don’t. I don’t mind at all.”

Crowley wasted no time in gently urging Aziraphale onto the bed, then crawled atop it himself and got to work between his legs, lapping away at that fresh, beautiful cunt.

“Oh, Cr… Crowley, mmph, _oh_.”

“Fuck,” Crowley moaned, “you taste so good.”

“I want– _Ohhh_ –I, I want to taste you, too.”

“In a minute, angel,” Crowley said with a grin, “I’m not done with you yet.” And with that, he attacked Aziraphale’s pussy once more, licking the hard little nub that rested cutely at its top, then latching his mouth onto it entirely and giving it a good, hard suck. Aziraphale bucked his hips off the bed with an obscenely loud moan, and then Crowley felt something tug at his hair. He grinned around Aziraphale’s clit and gave a few more sucks, hoping to encourage some more hair-pulling from his angel. He was rewarded brilliantly, his red locks tugged so roughly it forced his mouth harder against that plump clit. Aziraphale seemed to realize himself and loosened his grip with a mumbled apology. “Don’t,” said Crowley, pulling up just enough to meet Aziraphale’s gaze. “I liked it. Do it again. Do it whenever you want, however hard you want.”

Aziraphale looked down at him in wonder, then smirked. He fisted Crowley’s hair and gave it a good, hard yank, his smirk widening into a broad smile at the groan it pulled from the demon. “Mm. Now. I believe it’s my turn, yes?”

Crowley whimpered. “But I–”

“No, no. That was rhetorical, my dear. I can’t have you making me come before I’ve had my fair share of you, can I?” He sat up, then, and urged Crowley to take his place lying back on the mattress. “Let’s get you undressed,” he said, snapping away Crowley’s outer layers and leaving him in nothing but his boxer-briefs. “I need you in my mouth, dear.”

“Fffuck,” Crowley moaned, nodding fervently as Aziraphale smiled and teased the waistband of his last remaining article of clothing.

“Hmm, but perhaps I should savour the rest of you, first.”

“Angel,” Crowley whimpered, his legs twitching uselessly where he lay.

“Mm, no. I definitely want to pay special attention to your body in its entirety.” Aziraphale lowered his head and licked a nipple, then gave the other a little suck before licking it. “So beautiful, dear,” he praised, running his hands down Crowley’s torso until they could squeeze his thighs. He continued kissing and licking at his chest, then trailed his kisses down his tummy and finally began to peel away the last bit of fabric keeping him from his cock. “Mm, so lovely, peeking out like that. Shall I give it a warm, _wet_ welcome?” He flicked his gaze up to Crowley with an arched brow, and Crowley had to bite his hand to keep from releasing a truly embarrassing whimper. “Mm. Right, then.” Aziraphale finally freed Crowley’s cock from his pants with the snap of his fingers, leaving the demon naked beneath him, and pressed a kiss to the leaking tip of it.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley gasped. “Fuck.”

Aziraphale wrapped his lips around Crowley’s cock and hummed contentedly. Then he groaned around the taste of him, which sent a shiver through Crowley’s already shaking body. And _then_ the bastard had to go and start _sucking_ , making no effort whatsoever to minimize the lewd, wet noises created by his enthusiastic slurping, and Crowley felt something build in him that he was sure would end too soon.

“Aziraphale,” he hissed despite himself and sat up partway, resting his weight on his elbows. He put a hand on the side of Aziraphale’s face and prompted him to look up at him. “Aziraphale, stop.”

Aziraphale released him from his mouth with a rapidly concerned frown.

“No, don’t worry,” Crowley said quickly, “I just… M’gonna come if you keep doing that.”

Aziraphale eased the tension in his body and smiled, quirking a brow. “Isn’t that rather the point?”

Crowley huffed a laugh. “Well, yeah, but, I thought you wanted me to…?”

“Ah, yes,” Aziraphale said brightly. “That.” He laid back on the bed beside Crowley and spread his legs. “Well, then,” he said, turning his head to better face Crowley, “go on. I’m ready. Fuck me, dear.”

_Fuck._ Crowley tried and failed to stifle the whimper that rose in his throat. _Where did he learn to talk like that?_ The term of endearment tacked onto the end of such a crude demand sent warmth all throughout Crowley’s being–and heat directly to his groin. He rolled over on top of Aziraphale and lined himself up at his glistening, pink entrance. He looked down at him, eyes big and soft and so full of raw, heavy love they were beginning to water from it. “I love you,” he said earnestly.

Aziraphale seemed to melt at the words. “Oh, my dear,” he said, his voice soft and low. “I love you, too. With all that I am, I love you.” He cleared his throat. “And I would really like to feel you inside of me, if you don’t mind.”

_Right_. “Right.” _Right_. So, with that, Crowley entered him. He hissed in pleasure as his cock was enveloped in the tight, wet heat of Aziraphale’s cunt. “Mmmmffuck, love you. Love you, love you, love you.”

Aziraphale moaned and nodded, though no question had been asked of him. He gripped Crowley’s back and urged him closer until he could kiss him. “I love you so desperately, Crowley. So, so much more than you could ever comprehend. Even more than _I_ could comprehend, I think.”

Crowley nearly came from the emotional ecstasy of it all, but steadied himself. Aziraphale wanted a proper fucking, and, by _Someone_ , Crowley was going to deliver. He whined and began moving his hips, fucking into Aziraphale’s welcoming pussy with intentions to bring his angel into a state of previously unknown bliss. 

“F-fuck. _Fuck_!” Aziraphale wrapped his legs around Crowley and grasped at his back aimlessly. “Fuck me, Crowley. Harder. Yes. _Fuck_.”

Crowley groaned at the feeling of Aziraphale’s nails on his skin. “Fuck, angel. Fuck. I love– Love you. Fuck.” He reached down between them to rub at Aziraphale’s clit.

Aziraphale was reduced to babbles of adoration and moans of pleasure. His cunt tightened around Crowley’s cock, then eased, then tightened again, and Crowley was sure the both of them would come soon. He slowed his pace in effort to draw it out, which elicited a whimper from his lover.

“Mmm, I know, I just,” Crowley hissed, “wanna feel you more. Don’t want it to end.” Aziraphale had screwed his eyes shut in ecstasy, and Crowley found himself missing that dark gaze. “Angel,” he moaned, prompting Aziraphale to look back at him, though his eyelids were still quite heavy.

_Oh, fuck. There they are._ Aziraphale’s eyes had gone fully black, and Crowley gasped at the sight of them. They were _beautiful_. If it were possible to be any more aroused, he would’ve been. But, as it was, he was coming inside Aziraphale already, and rubbing his clit with renewed fervor as he did.

Aziraphale seemed near orgasm, as well, and locked his legs around Crowley to encourage him to keep fucking into him. So Crowley did, despite the overstimulation of his spent cock, and continued rubbing his clit. Aziraphale seemed to lose total control of his form, then, as his scales came out in ripples and horns emerged from his head. Then, the mild scratching that Aziraphale’d been doing to his back became…

“Fuck,” Crowley hissed. Aziraphale’s claws must have emerged, Crowley reasoned, because the sudden depth of the scratches on his back made the demon nearly lose concentration. He felt blood seep from his back, and bit his tongue to keep from startling the fallen angel with a yelp. It _hurt_ , but it also overwhelmed him with passion. “ _Fuck_. Come for me, angel. You took my cock and my come so well. Come on, come for me, Aziraphale. You deserve it, angel. You deserve so much pleasure, love, come on. Come.”

Black wings materialized from Aziraphale’s back as he came. The wings flapped a few times, lifting the both of them off the bed briefly before they settled back onto the mattress with a sharp gasp from Aziraphale.

“Mmmm,” Aziraphale groaned, stretching beneath Crowley and smiling lazily up at him. Then his eyes shot wide open and he sat up in an instant, forcing Crowley to back off from on top of him. “I’ve… _Fuck_ ,” he cried as he looked at his hands in horror, Crowley’s blood under his claws. “Oh, f-fuck! _No!_ No, I, I– _Fuck_!”

Crowley tried to hush him, tried to tell him it was okay, but Aziraphale wasn’t having any of it. He scrambled off of the bed, gasping out an apology before bolting out the door, his erratic wings nearly causing him to topple over in the process.

“Angel!”

And then Crowley was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am trying to only post new chapters if i have the next one ready, but i couldn't wait to post this and really i've only like a thousand words or so to go for the next one, so. hopefully i'll update again within the week. <3


	7. Chapter 7

Aziraphale was shaking. He’d stumbled his way down the stairs into the bookshop, and, with nowhere else to go, curled up on the rug near his desk and wept.

He whimpered into his hands, eyes squeezed shut to avoid confronting the evidence of what he’d done. But he could still _feel_ the warm, unpleasant wetness of blood under his claws. _Crowley’s_ blood. Crowley’s blood, which he’d drawn out in the heat of his own twisted pleasure. He sobbed harder, hissing at the sting on his cheeks as he clutched his knees to his chest. His wings cocooned him as he tried to calm himself with deep, shaky breaths.

He stayed like that until he heard Crowley’s footsteps coming down the stairs a few minutes later, grateful that he’d at least given him some time to process alone.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley started, but Aziraphale shook his head, his wings rustling around him.

“Please, don’t,” said Aziraphale, his voice raw. It caught in his throat a bit on the way out. His mouth was dry, his lips felt cracked, and his cheeks stung with the evidence of holy tears. And to think just a few minutes ago he’d been moaning through the most exquisite pleasure he’d ever experienced in his life. And then he’d _ruined_ it with his… monstrosity. “You can’t make me feel better about this, Crowley. I ruined our… Our first…” He broke down into sobs again.

“You didn’t ruin anything, angel,” said Crowley, his voice soft, low, and nearer than before. Aziraphale felt a steady hand on his back, right between the space where his wings emerged. “You’re fine, I’m fine, _we’re_ fine. It’s alright.”

Aziraphale choked out a broken sob and shook his head.

“Hey,” Crowley soothed, rubbing up and down the middle of Aziraphale’s back. “Just breathe, angel. Calm down. It’s okay. I’m not upset.”

“But _I_ _am_!” Aziraphale wailed. He turned, his wings unfolding from around himself to reveal his naked and trembling body to his dearest friend–his _lover, finally_ , his lover–whose skin he’d torn with his claws– _Oh_. Aziraphale gasped at the sight of blood on Crowley’s back, just barely visible from the angle he was crouched down beside him at. “I’ve injured you! You’re _bleeding_!”

Crowley shushed him, and ran a careful hand through his hair. “It’s fine, angel, believe me. S’more than fine.”

“F- _fine_?! I... I... Oh! My... the scales, the… the…” Aziraphale reached a shaky, clawed hand up to his forehead and whimpered when his fingers met the bone-like hardness of a horn. “No, no. No! I– No–”

“Shhh, Aziraphale, listen, it’ s okay–”

“It’s not! I’ve got your _blood_ under my… my _claws_ , Crowley!” Aziraphale sobbed. “And I’m… The… The horns, a-and–”

Crowley hushed him as he took his hands in his own. With a gentle squeeze, Aziraphale’s hands were clean, his claws retracted, and he even felt the scales and horns pop away, too. “Look, see? S’fine. No more blood. No more scales, nothing. You’re fine.”

Aziraphale’s lower lip trembled. “B-but, your back…”

“Well, yeah,” Crowley gave a careless nod and a shrug, “but that’s fine.”

“Crowley–”

“Angel, I don’t know how else to tell you I was _into_ that.” Crowley managed to speak firmly, genuinely, and softly all at once. He held Aziraphale’s gaze with a sincere expression. “It didn’t bother me _at all_.”

Aziraphale’s face screwed up in confusion. “You…?”

Crowley nodded. “It was incredibly– Look, if you were in my position– I mean, really, angel, you were so wrapped up in the moment, in _pleasure_ , that you lost control of your form. You have any idea how sexy that is? Seeing you come so entirely undone? It was _working_ for me. Nearly came again from the wonder of it all.” He thinned his lips and placed his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders. “I’m sorry it upset you, but don’t go guilting yourself because of _me_ , alright? ‘Cause on _my_ end… I’d be happy to let you do that every time we… y’know, have sex.”

Aziraphale lay dumbfounded for a moment, blinking up at Crowley with an expression between bewilderment and awe. Crowley rubbed his thumbs over his shoulders, then let one hand travel up to his cheek to wipe the tears away.

“D-don’t do that,” Aziraphale said finally, shrinking away from Crowley’s touch. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”

“It’s just a little sting.” Crowley put on a tentative smile. “And if I hadn’t made it clear, I don’t mind a bit of pain. Not where you’re concerned, anyway. More than fine with it. I promise.”

Aziraphale couldn’t wrap his head around it. How could he possibly be worth enduring such discomfort? How could the pain he caused him be… _arousing_? “That’s… It’s… It seems a bit… _wrong_ , Crowley.”

Crowley smirked. “Well, y’know, _demon_ ,” he said with a wink as he gestured to his still-unclothed body.

Aziraphale felt tears well up in his eyes at the word. He squeezed his eyes shut in effort to steady himself.

“Shit, I’m sorry, angel.” Crowley ran a hand through Aziraphale’s hair. “Shhh, shhh, I’m sorry. Hey, look at me. Will you look at me?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “I’m so _tired_ , Crowley. I can’t– I, I can’t…”

It was silent a moment as Crowley continued to stroke Aziraphale’s hair. Then, “Well, let’s get you to bed, then, yeah?” He tried to pick Aziraphale up bridal-style but paused to gently ask, “Can you tuck in your wings for me, angel?” He pressed a kiss to his forehead when the wings disappeared, and scooped him up in his arms. “There we go. Let’s have a nap.”

Aziraphale, overwhelmed as he was, had fallen asleep before Crowley had even reached the top of the staircase. He woke to sunshine pouring in through the window the next morning, with Crowley pressed against his naked side beneath the covers. Crowley’s arm was thrown over Aziraphale’s chest, with his face in the crook of his neck. Aziraphale shifted closer to him with a comfortable sigh.

How _nice_ it was, he thought, to wake beside him. How had he gotten so lucky?

Oh. Right. He wasn’t lucky at all. He’d fallen. He’d been cursed with hideous features, and he’d practically attacked the dear friend in his arms the night prior. Aziraphale shuddered at the memory of it, the feeling of blood beneath his nails. _Claws_ , he reminded himself.

And yet, there was Crowley, snuggled up to him as though nothing had happened. Well, not nothing. They had never done anything so intimate before. But neither had Aziraphale shredded Crowley’s back before, either.

Aziraphale winced, and shifted to get a better look at Crowley’s back. There was no sign of blood anymore–Crowley had clearly healed himself, but his skin was raised where he’d scratched him. As though it’d left an immediate scar. _Why on Earth would he keep it like that? Why wouldn’t he just heal himself completely? Why would he want a_ reminder _of– of–_

Aziraphale felt a tear sting his face, and closed his eyes. He sniffled and turned to bury his head in Crowley’s tousled hair. Despite the bitter voice inside him that told him he had no right to touch him, no right to be so soft with someone he’d dug his claws into hours prior, Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley and squeezed him close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into his hair. “I’m so sorry, my dear.”

“Mmmnh,” Crowley mumbled against Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Stop it.” He roused, lifting his head just enough to look Aziraphale in the eye. “Stop apologizing for things that don’t need to be apologized over.”

Aziraphale clenched his jaw. “I am _apologizing_ for _hurting_ you, Crowley.”

“Yeah, and I told you, it wasn’t bad, and I’m fine. No harm, no foul.”

“You… You _scarred_.”

“Yeah.” Crowley shrugged. “I didn’t heal it all the way.”

“ _Why not?!_ ”

It was quiet for a moment. Then, “I wasn’t sure if you were ever gonna wanna touch me again,” Crowley said solemnly. “Wanted some sort of proof that it’d ever happened.”

“Proof that I’d _injured_ you?!”

“Angel, I’m a _demon,_ ” Crowley snapped, “we _both_ are. I know you don’t like it, I know you don’t want to hear that word, but it’s true, and because we’re both _that_ , we’re stronger than humans, we’re more durable, we’re not going to fucking _discorporate_ from a bit of blood. Now _let it go_ , I am _begging_ you.”

Aziraphale could do nothing more than let his bottom lip tremble as he turned on his side, away from Crowley.

“…H-hey, I’m– Fuck, I’m sorry, Aziraphale. I’m sorry.”

Aziraphale felt his scales re-emerge from his skin, slowly but surely, and he made no effort to stop it. Not that he could have; he’d needed Crowley to make them disappear before. _Useless_ , he told himself. _Pathetic and useless, that’s what you are. Revolting. Unholy! You_ deserve _to be hideous. You deserve the scales, the claws, the fangs. You deserve the h_ – Aziraphale sobbed as he felt the horns take their place on his head once again.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder–soft, warm, tentative.

“Why can’t I just keep them _gone_?” he whispered. “Why can’t I make them go away on my _own_?”

Crowley was silent for a moment, then, gently, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think it’s because you haven’t really given it a proper try.”

Aziraphale turned to face Crowley again, too distraught to wipe the tears from his cheeks. Crowley did it for him.

“You’ve been trying to ignore them, angel.”

“W-well, yes! Of course I have! I _hate_ them!”

Crowley nodded. “I know. I know. But you have to accept…” he sighed, then leaned closer to kiss Aziraphale’s cheek. He replaced his mouth with his thumb when he pulled away, and ran it soothingly over his skin. “I know it’s gonna be hard. It might feel impossible at first, but I believe you can do it. You… You have to learn to accept the, uh, the demon stuff– I know, I’m sorry, but you have to… You have to accept it all as _part_ of you, even if you don’t like it. Only then can you really, you know, reject it. You at least have to recognize it _exists_ first. You can’t ignore something into nonexistence, angel,” Crowley said, his tone gentle. Apologetic, even. “You have to acknowledge that they’re there, first. Take ownership of them. Then you can command them to stay hidden.”

Aziraphale absorbed the advice in silence for a moment. It made sense, he thought. Of course it made sense. He just didn’t fucking like it. And Crowley was right; it felt impossible. “It’s just… It’s all so… hideous,” he said, keeping his voice low lest it crack.

“Yeah, you keep using that word.” Crowley ran his thumb over Aziraphale’s cheek again, a small, loving smile on his face. “I don’t agree with it.”

Aziraphale shook his head and averted his gaze. “I can’t understand that.”

Crowley nodded. “And that’s okay. You will, in time. I don’t care how many times I have to tell you, there is _nothing_ hideous about your true form.”

“But that’s just it, Crowley!” Aziraphale sat up in bed, his voice high and distressed. “I, I don’t _want_ it to be my ‘true’ form! And the more I let you see it, the, the longer someone else bears witness to it, well, then it, it’s _real_ , and it’s…” He shook his head. “No. No, I would rather just forget about it, thank you.” Then, smaller, quieter, “And I don’t want you to think of me as a… as a demon.”

Crowley shifted where he lay until he could rest his head in Aziraphale’s lap. “Hey, didn’t I tell you?” He reached up and cupped his chin. “You’ll _always_ be my angel.”

“Even if I never learn to hide all these… these _grotesque_ features?”

“Even then,” said Crowley, though he shot Aziraphale a mildly disapproving look at his choice of words. “Angel, you’re always going to be beautiful to me. Everything about you. You were beautiful before, and you’re just as breathtaking now. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Aziraphale knew well enough by now that Crowley really _wouldn’t_ lie to him. But insecurity seemed to be his new best friend, and assured him that, _Actually, he_ would _lie to you, he just wants you to stop whimpering over your pathetic appearance and be better company._

“I mean it, Aziraphale.”

“I… I know,” he said, unconvincingly.

Crowley rolled away from Aziraphale’s lap and sat up to face him with a grim look. “I want you to say it.”

Aziraphale merely shot him a confused frown in reply.

“That you’re beautiful. Breathtaking. Flawless. Heavenly, even. _Lovely_. I want you to say it to yourself, if you can.”

“I… I can’t do that.” Aziraphale had never had any disdain for his body before, but he’d never been particularly proud of it, either. He’d have struggled to say something so confident even _before_ his fall. And afterwards… Well, it just wasn’t going to happen. “I _cannot_ say that, Crowley. I’m sorry.”

Crowley eyed him, his lips thinned, then nodded. “Okay, maybe later.”

“Doubtful–”

“In the meantime, if you want to hide those scales and et cetera yourself, you’ve got to confront them. You’ve got to take ownership before you can tell them to fuck off, got it?”

Aziraphale “got it”, in theory, but he shook his head. “I don’t think I can…”

“You can. I know you can. We can work up to it, alright?”

“No! I,” Aziraphale quieted himself, “I need to learn to do it _now_.”

Crowley nodded. “Alright. Then, tell me what you’ve got.”

Aziraphale’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“Tell me what you’ve got. Name those new features you hate so much. You’ve got…?”

“…Scales?”

“Mmhm. Full sentence, angel.”

Aziraphale heaved an exasperated sigh. “I have scales,” he said. It sent a jolt of disgust through him, so thick he thought he might need to vomit. Crowley seemed to notice his reaction and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“It’s alright. You’re doing great. You can do this. Take it slow. Can you say it again?”

“…I have scales?”

“You do?”

Aziraphale huffed. “Yes. Clearly. I have scales. I am _lined_ with scales, from my feet to the top of my head, upon which there are _horns_. Horns I never asked for, which I would like _very much_ to be rid of, thank you, and Crowley this is feeling utterly ridiculous.”

Crowley nodded, his mouth quirking at the corner. “Mmhm. Angel, touch your forehead.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Aziraphale. Touch. Your forehead.”

He did.

There was nothing there.

Well, the scales that had surrounded the horns were still there. But his head was entirely horn-free, it seemed. Aziraphale looked to Crowley, flabbergasted.

Crowley grinned. “You _accepted_ them and then said you wanted them gone, so they hid themselves. S’that simple.”

“I…”

“Go on, give it a go with the scales, then.”

Aziraphale was nervous. Now that he knew it was _possible_ , he feared not being able to pull it off again. “I… have scales,” he admitted, “and I’d… I’d like them to be gone?”

“You _would?_ S’that a question, angel?”

Aziraphale huffed. “I have scales at the moment and I demand that they go away!”

“And there they go.” Crowley couldn’t stop smiling. “Told you you could do it, didn’t I?”

Aziraphale looked down at his suddenly scaleless form and beamed. “I… You did. Thank you.”

“Thank yourself, you’re the one who did it.”

“Well. Thank _me_ , then.”

The two of them chuckled.

“You know,” Aziraphale said after gathering himself, “you were meant to be asleep until July.”

Crowley frowned. “Eh, w– Yeah, I know, I… I changed my mind. Missed you. And I’m glad I’m here, anyway. I’m glad you’re not going through this alone. I was, y’know. Alone. When it happened. No one to tell me I still mattered. No one to tell me I wasn’t nearly as ugly as I thought I was.” Crowley gave him a pointed look.

Aziraphale scoffed.

“You’re not, you know.”

“Mm, I think you’re a bit biased, dear.”

Crowley beamed. “I am. I really, really am.” He dropped the smile and looked meaningfully into Aziraphale’s eyes. “But I mean it. You’re still every bit as beautiful as the day we met.”

Aziraphale blushed. “You can’t possibly mean that.”

“Oh, I can. I _do_.”

Aziraphale had to look away. “I… I don’t believe it.”

“Well,” Crowley said, his voice light, “I’ll just have to prove it to you, then.”

“I don’t see how you could possibly do that.”

Crowley smiled, then leaned in and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead. “Just gonna have,” he trailed kisses down to his cheeks, “to love on,” to his jaw, “every,” his chin, “little,” his mouth, “bit of you.” Another kiss on the mouth for good measure. “That alright with you?”

Aziraphale beamed, though he tried to hold it back. “I-I suppose.”

“Good. ‘Cause I love that face. Those lips. Eyes. These cheeks,” he said, pinching them with a teasing grin. Aziraphale tried to huff in annoyance but it came out as more of a giggle. “Love your hair, your–” Crowley frowned. “Hang on, is your hair, uh, different?”

Aziraphale’s face fell. “Oh, it’s– Yes, I, I think it got a bit… ashy.”

Crowley’s eyes widened. “Oooh, it did, yeah.” He gave Aziraphale a bright smile. “Suits you.”

Aziraphale huffed. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“It does! Makes you look… I dunno, distinguished.”

“Hmmph.”

“Hey, if you don’t like it, you could probably miracle it back. Or, y’know, dye it. Human way. S’barely noticeable, anyway. I only just caught it in this light. And it’s only in some spots. You still look like a bottle blonde,” Crowley teased, then gave him a sincere, gentle look. “It’s really subtle, angel. Really.”

“Yes, yes, I know. But it’s still…,” he sighed. “It’s still just another _thing_ to, you know, to deal with.”

Crowley nodded. “Well, let’s get it washed, yeah?”

Aziraphale frowned. “What good would that do?”

“Relax you, for one.” Crowley frowned as he reached a hand out to fuss with Aziraphale’s hair. “And it looks like some of this is… _literal_ ash, angel. You give yourself a proper cleaning after, y’know, everything?”

Aziraphale blushed and looked away in shame. “I can’t say that I have.”

“Well, then. Leave it to me.”

Before Aziraphale could protest, Crowley hopped out of bed, scooped him up in his arms, and marched over to the connected bathroom. He set him down on the side of the tub and turned the faucet.

Aziraphale shook his head as Crowley miracled up a bottle of bubble bath and poured a generous amount into the tub. “This is ridiculous; I’m an ang– I’m… I don’t need to do this the human way. I can simply miracle myself clean.”

“Not as relaxing that way, though, is it?” Crowley gave him a pleading look and asked gently, “Will you let me take care of you?”

Aziraphale huffed and looked away. “I’m the one who ought to be tending to _you_ after what I did to you last night.”

“Still not over that, then? Come on. I told you it’s–”

“I don’t deserve this,” Aziraphale interrupted.

Crowley practically _glared_ at him. “That’s _shit_ thinking and you know it.”

“…I don’t.” He _did_ , deep down. He knew, logically, that he hadn’t intended to hurt Crowley. He knew he’d been dealing with a lot, that he ought to give himself a break, that he wasn’t being fair to himself. _Logically_ , he was practically an expert in the art of loving oneself. But applying those skills to the emotional realm was a whole other task–one he didn’t feel even remotely up for at the moment.

Crowley made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “Can you just…” He gestured at the tub, which had filled with a supernatural speed and was nearly overflowing with foamy, white, lavender-scented bubbles. “Get in the damn bath, will you?”

Aziraphale shook himself out of his thoughts, then looked from the tub to Crowley with an apprehensive frown. “Only if… Only if you do. I want you to be able to relax, too.”

Crowley quirked a brow. “Who’s to say caring for you isn’t relaxing for me?” Before Aziraphale could respond, Crowley hopped into the tub, splashing water and a good amount of bubbles over the sides, earning a disapproving frown from Aziraphale, who willed the floor dry with a wave of his hand. Crowley leaned back against the end of the tub after turning the faucet off, then looked to Aziraphale expectantly and made a “come on” motion with his hand.

“Do you… Do you want me to lean back against your chest?”

“That’s the idea. Then I can wash you like I would myself.”

Aziraphale lingered on the edge of the tub for a moment before finally allowing himself to slip in, carefully to avoid any more spills. He’d fully intended to pout through the whole ordeal, but as soon as the warmth of the water kissed his weary skin, he let out a breathy, relieved sigh. Crowley wrapped his arms around him, urging him to lie back against his chest, and Aziraphale followed with a dreamy hum.

“Good?”

Aziraphale nodded, closing his eyes. “Good.”

He could _hear_ Crowley’s grin when he said, “Didn’t I tell you?”

“Oh, hush. Aren’t you meant to be washing me?”

Crowley tsk’d, then mumbled into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, “Impatient little thing, aren’t you?”

Aziraphale snorted. “I’m hardly little, dear.”

“And thank Someone for that; I can’t get enough of you.” Crowley ran his hands up and down Aziraphale’s torso, peppering the back of his neck and shoulders with kisses. “Love you,” he murmured into warm, wet skin.

“Mmm. I love you, too, dearest.”

Crowley nipped an earlobe, then chuckled when Aziraphale sucked in a surprised breath. “Oh, so I’m _‘dearest’_ , now, am I?”

“You always were, my love.”

Crowley made a strangled sound from behind Aziraphale. He grabbed his chin, turning the fallen angel’s head and leaning closer until their lips could meet. “Can’t say stuff like that,” he said after giving him a deep, wet kiss. “‘Specially not when I’m sitting behind you with my cock out.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “I suppose you’d like to try having sex in the bath, then?”

“That wasn’t the plan, but… Y’know.” Crowley gave a careless shrug, as though his cock wasn’t quickly hardening against Aziraphale’s back. “I wouldn’t mind it if you wouldn’t mind it.”

Aziraphale considered it. He imagined slipping and sliding and splashing and shouting. Then he felt something sharp and unpleasant rise in his chest. Something akin to dread. He imagined the bathwater turned red with Crowley’s blood, he imagined the pleasured shouts becoming tormented screams. He imagined himself shredding, slicing, scratching at his lover until there was nothing left of him. “I can’t!” Aziraphale broke down into sobs. “I’m sorry, b-but I _can’t_. I don’t… I can’t trust myself not to… to hurt you. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t–”

“Hey, hey, shhhh, shhhhh, angel, it’s okay.” Crowley ran his hands up and down Aziraphale’s arms and pressed feather-light kisses to his neck and shoulders. “It’s okay. We don’t have to.” He waited a moment before adding, “But if you’re only holding yourself back for fear of hurting me or something…” He pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s ear. “I told you, you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Well I _am_ worried,” Aziraphale exclaimed, turning just enough to shoot Crowley a perplexed glare. “Can’t you fathom why it might be terribly upsetting for me to… to finally _have_ you, and to have hurt you? Can’t you _grasp_ that?! That all I want to do is to show my love for you and I can’t even trust myself to do that without leaving you a bloodied mess! That now I can only corrupt you, to make you as… as awful as I am.”

“You’re…” It was Crowley’s turn to give a confused frown. “You seem to be forgetting that we’re _both_ –”

“You know what I mean, Crowley! I’ve loved you all this time, and I’ve _fallen_ because of it, a-and now it seems that it’s… it’s _cursed_ , Crowley. My love is cursed.”

“Well that’s a bit dramatic, innit?”

“So are _these_ ,” said Aziraphale, bringing out his claws and holding a hand up for Crowley to see them. He retracted them once the point was made. “I can’t love you the way I’d always hoped. I can’t love you as… as an angel. I can’t be… I can’t be s-soft and gentle and… and properly _loving_ with you!” Aziraphale cried, his lower lip trembling as he continued, “All you can get from me is… is _this_. This terrible, cursed thing I’ve become. A-and I can’t enjoy my love for you! I can’t share intimacy with you without losing control of–”

“Alright, no, listen,” Crowley pushed Aziraphale gently, urging him to fully turn around to face him. Aziraphale acquiesced, leaning against the opposite end of the tub with his arms folded self-consciously over his chest. “That happened _once_. For your first time. You weren’t expecting it to be as…” Crowley’s lips quirked, “as _great_ as it was, I don’t think. You were overwhelmed. I doubt it’ll happen every time. You’ll get used to it, and it’ll be just as good but you’ll be able to, y’know, keep your wings ’n things in.” Crowley chanced a grin. “But I hope you won’t. I liked seeing you come so undone.”

“Yes, you’ve made that quite clear.”

Crowley shrugged.

It was quiet between them for a moment, as Aziraphale fussed with his hands under the mountain of bubbles. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Crowley’s gaze. He had something to confess, and he was certain he wouldn’t be able to do it if he looked into those gentle amber eyes. Still, Crowley deserved to know. So, after opening and closing his mouth a few times, he fixed his eyes on one little formation of bubbles a few centimeters from his chest and forced himself to say, his shaky voice barely above a whisper, “I liked it.”

“Hmm?”

Aziraphale squeezed his hand so tightly he thought he might break his own fingers. “I _liked_ it!” He was fully aware that he was wailing now, but he couldn’t bring himself to calm down. “ _Clawing_ at you! It, it _added_ to my… to my ecstasy, in the moment.” His chest began to rise and fall with rapid, panicked breaths. “Becoming so… so _wild_. Knowing I could snap you in half if I wanted to. I _liked_ it, Crowley. I, I, I–” Tears slid down his cheeks and into the bath, causing a few bubbles to fizzle away.

“Angel…”

Aziraphale couldn’t see, _refused_ to see his expression, but he could hear how gentle Crowley’s voice was, and could picture the concerned frown quite clearly in his mind. Only, his mind swept it away in favor of an image of Crowley grimacing, recoiling in disgust. 

“Oh, you _must_ understand,” Aziraphale rushed to say, desperate to defend himself, though he felt unforgivable, “the _moment_ it was over, I, I snapped out of it entirely! I _hated_ myself for it! I was in shock! I, I– I would _never_ have done anything to hurt you, i-in my right mind, b-but I was… I wasn’t thinking properly, you know, i-in that moment, when I was…” he gulped, “near-orgasm, you see, a-and I…” Aziraphale trailed off and broke down into sobs. “I _enjoyed_ it, Crowley. I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

The silence between them made Aziraphale feel like he was choking. He kept his gaze fixed on the bubbles that were rapidly melting away under the assault of his tears. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to slide down under the water and drown in it. Crowley probably wouldn’t allow that, though. Or would he? He hadn’t said anything yet. Perhaps he truly _was_ disgusted. Horrified, even. Aziraphale was always meant to be the _nice_ one! He should _never_ be… be _aroused_ by being so rough with his lover! Aziraphale thought it wouldn’t be surprising if Crowley got up and walked away that very moment. He _should_ , probably. He should run as far away as possible from the wretched thing Aziraphale had become. How could he even–

“Right,” Crowley said, finally, decisively, drawing Aziraphale out of his thoughts. He reached across the tub and lifted Aziraphale’s chin with a wet hand, but Aziraphale refused to look him in the eye. “Don’t get upset, alright? …But that’s… That’s _hot_ , angel.”

Aziraphale couldn’t even find it in himself to scoff as he said, his voice tired and doubting, “Don’t say that.”

“Well, it’s true! Look, maybe we should explore, uhhh, sado/masochism together. Seems like we’re predisposed to it. Y’know, dom ’n sub stuff. Think we’ve got our roles already sorted out for us quite nicely. You _could’ve_ snapped me in half in that moment and I would’ve thanked you!”

Aziraphale finally snapped his gaze up to Crowley’s, gaping at him for a moment before saying, “You’d have _discorporated_ , you absolute idiot!”

“Yeah, discorporated from being so fucking _thrilled_!”

“You’re ridiculous. This conversation is ridiculous.” Aziraphale huffed and crossed his arms back over his chest, turning away to stare very intently at the sink across from the tub.

“It is, isn’t it?” Crowley laughed. “We’re a bit ridiculous.”

Aziraphale, despite himself, huffed a laugh. Crowley did the same again, and then it was all they could seem to do. The two of them broke out into a fit of giggles and snorts and even splashed each other a few times as tears of relief snuck subtly out of Aziraphale’s eyes.

“You know,” he said after a few minutes of carefree laughing and playful splashes, “I think you could do the same to me, and I might enjoy it.”

“Do what?”

“You know…” Aziraphale looked away, suddenly self-conscious.

“What, snap you in half?”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale splashed a bit of water in Crowley’s direction, earning an amused (and startled) laugh from the demon. “I’m _talking_ about being… rough. You know, in general. I’d really rather not be actually _injured_ , but… Oh, I don’t know. I always did like the idea of you tying me up, you know. Having your way with me.”

“I did _not_ know.” Crowley grinned. “I know _now_.”

“Mm. And what do you plan to do with this newfound knowledge?”

Crowley sucked in a breath and let it out, relaxing against the back of the tub with a teasing smile. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just have to… I dunno, tie you to the bed and tease you, keep you from coming until you admit that you deserve pleasure? How’s that sound?”

Aziraphale gulped, his mouth suddenly dry. “I… That would be, ah,” he cleared his throat. “That would be interesting.”

“Oh yes,” Crowley drawled, “I think that would be _very_ interesting. For the both of us. I wonder how long I would be able to have my mouth on your cunt before you wound up begging to come.” 

Aziraphale felt himself blush, his ears gone hot. “Well, I suppose you’d have to, ah, try it in order to find out.”

“Suppose I would.”

“…You know, if you were to tie me efficiently, I might not be able to claw at you if… if it came to that again. I wouldn’t have to worry about harming you.”

Crowley nodded, his voice low. “Mm, no, you’d be entirely helpless, wouldn’t you? Completely at my disposal.”

“How demonic.” Aziraphale couldn’t help but smirk at his own words, though they still sent a little jolt through him. It hurt less, though, when applied solely to Crowley. It felt like how it’d always been, before his fall. He used to enjoy teasing Crowley about his demonic nature. He wondered if it ever hurt him. If maybe Crowley didn’t _want_ to be thought of that way. Though, if the smirk on Crowley’s lips was any indication, he certainly didn’t seem to mind at the moment.

“Yes, very,” Crowley said. “Defiling a pretty little angel like you? Very demonic, yeah. Would’ve won awards for it in hell if I still worked down there.”

Aziraphale beamed. _Pretty little angel._ Oh, he liked that. _Defiling?_ He liked that even more. He shifted where he sat, trying to provide his clit with some relief.

Crowley eyed him, the smallest hint of a knowing smirk on his face. “That get you all hot and bothered, angel?”

“Might have,” Aziraphale admitted. “But I,” he sighed, shifting again in the tub, “I don’t think I’m ready to… To actually, um… Well, honestly, I’m still rather frightened, Crowley. I’m s–”

“I _know_ you’re not about to apologize for something that isn’t your fault. You’re not gonna do that.”

Aziraphale fixed him with a pursed-lipped frown. “Fine, then.” He sighed. “Weren’t you meant to be washing me? My hair, at least?”

“Well, you’re all the way over there, now.”

Aziraphale huffed a laugh at how dramatically Crowley had said it, as though they were on opposite ends of the country and not, in fact, so close in proximity that Aziraphale’s feet kept brushing against Crowley’s thighs.

“Come here, then,” Crowley demanded, motioning for Aziraphale to reclaim his rightful place against the demon’s chest.

“Mm, no. I would rather us meet in the middle,” said Aziraphale, scooting forward a bit. “I want to be facing you.”

Crowley beamed, and met Aziraphale halfway, wrapping his legs around his waist and urging him closer.

Aziraphale huffed a laugh. “Well, that’s a bit _too_ close, isn’t it? You’ll hardly be able to wash my hair like this.”

Crowley groaned, but shifted back a bit nonetheless. He cupped his hands under the water and brought it up to Aziraphale’s head, smoothing it through his curls. He repeated the motion until his hair was dripping wet.

“This isn’t very efficient,” Aziraphale noted, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“It really isn’t,” Crowley agreed. He chuckled, then, and snapped. Suddenly, in his hand was a decent sized bucket–the sort a child might bring to the beach. He dunked it in the water and then dumped the contents over Aziraphale’s head.

Aziraphale sputtered under the surprise waterfall. “Why, you– You _fiend!_ ” Crowley was cackling, which sent Aziraphale into a giggle fit.

“Can’t say that wasn’t efficient.”

Aziraphale tried to stop the laughter that kept bubbling up, but failed. “Will you,” he said through giggles, “will you just… fi-finish the job, please?”

Crowley was grinning as he snapped some shampoo into his hand and then got to lathering Aziraphale’s hair. It smelled like vanilla, or perhaps honey– Anyway, it was sweet, and Aziraphale closed his eyes to fully immerse himself in the soothing scent. Crowley took his time working his hair to a good lather, gingerly massaging his scalp. After a few moments, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s lips. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. “So bloody gorgeous, angel.”

Aziraphale blushed, opening his eyes to meet Crowley’s adoring gaze. He felt like he could melt under all that love. “I must be a mirror, then,” he said, “for you’re just as beautiful. Astoundingly so.”

“Thank you,” said Crowley, bringing up a handful of water to start rinsing Aziraphale’s hair, “but can I ask something of you? Can you stop deflecting my compliments and just let me say things without trying to downplay them? And don’t try to tell me that’s not what you’re doing.”

Aziraphale swallowed thickly and looked down. “It’s… not as easy as you’d think.”

“I know. Just.” Crowley continued rinsing his hair, little by little. “Let me tell you you’re beautiful without saying anything back. Don’t change the subject, don’t try to return the compliment, and don’t _deny_ it, either. Even if you don’t believe it right now, give yourself the chance to accept it. To get used to it. Can you do that? ‘Cause I need you to let it sink in; you’re beautiful. Wholly and entirely. Inside and out, as overused as the phrase is. You’re the very _definition_ of beauty, s’far as I’m concerned.”

Aziraphale swallowed thickly. “I–”

Crowley cut him off with a raised brow.

“I– Fine. Um, thank you, then, I suppose.”

“You’re welcome.” Crowley blew out a sigh, then, and brushed his hands together in a washing motion as he said, “Hair’s done. Wanna sit here a bit more, or should we get out before we shrivel up?”

Aziraphale blinked. His mind was still a bit stuck on the ( _overgenerous_ , he thought) compliment Crowley’d given him just a moment ago. “Um, what was that, dear?”

“Do you want to get out,” Crowley said, slowly, “or do you want to stay in here and become a raisin?”

Aziraphale gave him a pointed look, then sighed and miracled up a couple of towels for the both of them. “I suppose we _should_ get out,” he said, handing Crowley a black towel.

They got out and dried off, and Aziraphale had hardly hung up his towel before Crowley swooped in and picked him up, chuckling as Aziraphale protested. “Crowley, _really_! You _must_ stop doing that! It’s absurd!”

Crowley merely cackled as he carried the squirming fallen angel back into the bedroom and plopped him down onto the bed.

“You’re ridiculous,” Aziraphale continued to chastise. “I’m not a child!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Crowley teased, settling onto the bed on his side. “You’re pouting like one.”

“I’m not pouting, I’m, I’m merely pointing out the _absurdity_ of you carrying me everywhere when I am perfectly capable of walking myself.”

“Uh-huh. Right. Tell me, angel, what do you call this expression?” Crowley pulled his face into a mimicking frown, his lower lip puffing out just enough to be noticeable. _Alright, a pout. It’s a pout. Damn him._ Aziraphale made a “tsk” sound and rolled onto his side, facing away from his teasing lover. “Mmhm,” said Crowley. “S’what I thought.”

“I’m not going to talk to you if you’re going to be making fun of me like that,” Aziraphale pouted, then pouted even deeper upon realizing he was pouting.

“Aw, come on,” Crowley cooed, “turn around, angel. Let me see that pout. I never said I didn’t like it, you know. S’cute.”

Aziraphale huffed. “I am an a– I’m a– I’m not cute!”

“You are,” Crowley argued. He crawled over to the other side of the bed until he could face Aziraphale, who buried his face in his hands upon being looked at. “Aha, see? Cute.”

Aziraphale blushed and muttered into his palms, “Would you stop using that word?”

Crowley shrugged. “Endearing, then.”

“…Fine.”

“Now, will you look at me? I’ve gone far too long without looking into those eyes.”

“It’s been hardly a minute,” Aziraphale said flatly, but lowered his hands and lifted his head nonetheless.

“Exactly. Far too long.”

“Well now you’re just being dramatic.”

Crowley grinned. “That’s me.” He leaned forward and kissed the tip of Aziraphale’s nose. “You love me for it.”

“I do,” Aziraphale admitted, unable to hold back the smile that’d been tugging at his lips any longer.

“And I love you.”

“Mm, you’ve expressed that.”

“Well, m’not done.”

“No? What else is there to say?”

Crowley shook his head. “Can’t even put it into words. S’ineffable, like you said. Gonna just have to lay here with you and hope it sinks in.”

And so they did. They spent the next few hours lying there like that, face to face, breathing each other in and drowning in each other’s loving gaze. It almost made Aziraphale feel self-conscious, being so bare both literally and figuratively in front of his dearest… well, his _dearest_. He had trouble holding his gaze for more than a few minutes at a time. But the moment he looked away, he’d start to feel the weight of it all; the chaos around him. The fall, Heaven, Hell, all the happenings in the World they called home. And just as it began to overwhelm him, that was when he’d return his gaze to Crowley’s, and suddenly he was steady. Everything else melted away, leaving him safe and held and _loved_.

There was a lot going on in Aziraphale’s mind. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was feeling at any given moment anymore. But, as love poured into him like liquid sunshine from amber eyes, he thought that maybe, just _maybe_ , he might be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the near-month-long hiatus!! this fic is still very dear to me, i won't abandon it, i promise. <33
> 
> also, as hinted at... future sexytimes will definitely be gettin' kinky, so. fair warning. they're switches, bitches. *blows kiss*


	8. Chapter 8

They spent the next few days in bed, kissing and cuddling (though Aziraphale wouldn’t dare refer to it as such in Crowley’s presence). At least, Aziraphale was quite sure it’d been a few days. He’d noticed the sun rise and set at least twice. Time became rather irrelevant when you were an eternal being, and even more so when you were an eternal being who was finally free to explore your love with _another_ eternal being.

That said, only so much time could pass before even Aziraphale grew desperate to do something besides look into those loving eyes. It was the gazing itself that prompted it, actually.

“Let me pleasure you,” he said between languid kisses.

“Wha–?”

“Let me pleasure you, _please_. I don’t want to, er, to get too excited, myself. I-I’m, I’m not ready to do that again. Not yet. But please, Crowley, let me take you in my mouth. Let me taste you again. I want you to,” Aziraphale swallowed, “I want you to spill your release down my throat.”

“Angel,” Crowley croaked.

“Please.”

“Well I’m not going to fucking say ‘no’ to that, am I?! Just– You might have to restrain me.”

Aziraphale gave a puzzled frown.

“Don’t wanna startle you by grabbing your hair or something.”

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment. Then, “I think… I think I might like that. Yes, I think I could handle it. You know, without getting too excited.”

Crowley groaned in reply and nodded as Aziraphale shuffled down the mattress to get between his legs.

Before Aziraphale had even put his mouth on Crowley’s cock, Crowley fisted a hand in his hair. Aziraphale looked up to find a big dumb grin on the demon’s face, and returned it with a soft, amused smile. Then he wrapped his lips around Crowley’s already-hard length and moaned around the taste of him.

Crowley groaned and tightened his grip on that soft blonde hair, throwing his head back against the mattress as he closed his eyes. “Fuck.”

“Mmhmm.” Aziraphale smiled around Crowley’s cock and started sucking lazily, eyes drifting closed as he immersed himself in his other senses. The sounds Crowley made. The simultaneously sweet and salty taste of his skin. The feeling of having his mouth stretched and filled and, _oh, he’s coming already_. Aziraphale’s eyes shot open for a moment as a warm, thick substance shot to the back of his throat. Crowley shouted an expletive–which one, Aziraphale couldn’t be sure, he was a bit distracted by the way Crowley had yanked on his hair. He closed his eyes again and moaned loudly around the demon’s spent cock. When he was satisfied that he’d sucked all there was to suck out of him, he released Crowley’s cock from his mouth, gave the tip a chaste kiss, and promptly dropped his head to his lover’s thigh with a little sigh of contentment.

Crowley broke the peaceful silence by clearing his throat. “Er, that… That was embarrassing. Sorry, angel.”

Aziraphale lifted his head to fix Crowley with a frown. “What for? I said I wanted to swallow your seed, didn’t I?”

Crowley snorted. “Yeah. You did, yeah. But I meant… I don’t think it’s supposed to happen that quickly.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale smiled and crawled his way back up to Crowley’s side, nuzzling his neck. “I suppose I’ll take it as a compliment. You know, to my skills.”

“Your skills?” Crowley tilted his head toward Aziraphale and cocked a brow, an amused grin gracing his lips.

“Mm.” Aziraphale gave a nod, then pressed a kiss to Crowley’s neck. “At cock-sucking.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, angel.”

“I’d prefer to keep religious figures out of our bedroom, if you please.”

“Whatever you want.” Crowley shifted, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale. “Wanna make you come, though.”

Aziraphale tensed in his arms and shook his head. “I can’t. I– No. Not yet.”

Crowley kissed the top of his head, smoothing his hands over Aziraphale’s back as he uttered a patient, “S’okay.”

They lay quietly in each other’s embrace for a good half hour before Crowley sighed. It was an all-too-neutral sigh, which provided Aziraphale’s insecurity with enough ammo to inform him that it _must_ mean Crowley was bored, that he wanted to leave, that he’d had too much of him and needed some space.

“Are… Are you growing bored?” Aziraphale asked, as casually as possible.

Crowley snorted. “Angel, I could spend _eternity_ with you like this and it wouldn’t be enough.” He quirked a brow. “Are _you_ bored?”

“No! No, not at all. B-but, I. Well I suppose I _am_ getting a bit restless. I’m… I’m trying to focus on _you_ , on your love, dear, but with all the silence it’s been growing quite difficult not to, erm, not to think about…” _The possibility that you will grow tired of me and leave_ , he didn’t say. “Well, stressful things, I suppose.”

“Right. Time to get up, then. You ever decide on a recipe?” Crowley asked, sitting up and peering back at Aziraphale over his shoulder.

Aziraphale gave him a quizzical frown.

“Baking. You said we could do a recipe together.”

“Ah! Yes. Well, I hadn’t thought of one, really, I– What might you prefer?”

A small, fond smile. “You know I’m not going to be eating it, angel.”

“…How about devil’s food cake?”

Crowley huffed a laugh. “Bit on the nose, innit?”

“Well, yes. But as _I’m_ the one eating it, and I do enjoy chocolate…”

“Devil’s food cake it is.”

It _was_ devil’s food cake, no thanks to Crowley.

While Aziraphale had prepared the batter, poured it into the cake pan, and put it in the oven, all Crowley had managed to do was cover himself in just about every ingredient they’d gotten out. Aziraphale had to stifle a giggle more than once as he looked over at the love of his life throughout the process.

Crowley had started their little baking endeavor by throwing a dark green apron over his bare body, which Aziraphale thought contrasted quite nicely with his red hair. Aziraphale wore an apron of his own that was a lovely shade of light pink. They’d kissed for a bit, in the shop’s little kitchen in the back, before Aziraphale peeled himself away to fetch the ingredients.

By the time the cake was in the oven, Crowley had ended up with flour on his arms and cheek, batter on his wrist and brow, and, by some miracle that Aziraphale could not fathom, egg yolk in his hair. The only thing for which the apron had proven useful was to catch the half gallon of milk that Crowley had managed to spill all over himself while they were “cleaning up”, by which point Aziraphale had given up on trying not to laugh.

Crowley had the audacity to act offended. “Oi! I’m _helping_ you, angel!”

“Oh, is _that_ what you call it?” Aziraphale nearly slipped on the spilt milk as he all but doubled over in a fit of giggles. He miracled away the mess with a thought and wiped a stinging tear from his eye. “Oh, I believe I needed that, dear. Thank you.”

“I– I didn’t do it on _purpose_!” Crowley glowered, unfastening the soaked apron from around his waist before bunching it up and tossing it to the floor, leaving him nude and still covered in, well, everything.

“I _know_ you didn’t,” Aziraphale chuckled. “Oh!” The oven timer had gone off, and Aziraphale had to bat Crowley’s hands away when he reached for the oven mitts. “If you think I am letting you anyway _near_ that cake pan, dear, well,” another chuckle, “go and take a look at yourself. I don’t intend to eat this off the floor.”

Crowley glared for a moment, then pouted, then softened entirely in surrender. “Is it that bad?”

“Dear, you are wearing the ingredients list. How on _Earth_ did you get egg in your _hair_?”

Crowley reached up to his now-sticky hair with a frown and smoothed his hand through it, leaving it perfectly clean when he pulled his hand away. He miracled the rest of himself clean, but didn’t bother to clothe himself. “Listen,” he said, “I don’t usually cook. Er, bake. Y’know. I don’t do kitchen stuff.”

“ _Really?_ I’d never have guessed.”

That little sarcastic comment had earned Aziraphale a light smack on the bottom as he’d turned to retrieve the finished cake from the oven.

_Oh_ , it smelled divine. Aziraphale tried not to think about how it might be the only thing in the room that could be considered as such. “A bottle of red might go nicely with this, I think,” he said, setting the cake down to cool. “What did you bring?”

“Hmm?” Crowley seemed to have been staring at Aziraphale’s bare backside, blinking when Aziraphale turned around to face him as though he’d been in a daze.

Aziraphale gave a knowing smirk, then redirected the focus to his question. “When you first arrived, outside the door, you said you’d brought wine. And cherries. Where are they?”

“Oh. Errr, dunno. Think I banished them into nonexistence the moment I realized you were in trouble.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale grimaced.

“I could miracle up a new bottle–”

“No, no. I have plenty in the back.” He turned away quickly to retrieve a bottle of dark red wine, setting it on the table where Crowley’d taken a seat before heading back to the kitchenette to slice the cake. Really, it should’ve taken a bit longer to cool, but Aziraphale was rather intent on indulging his tastebuds rather than reliving the day he’d been discovered as a… That is, the day he’d been discovered by Crowley. So, he willed the cake to cool itself in a timely manner, and returned to the table with a two plates and one fork.

“You know I’m not gonna be eating that, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Oh, I know. This is for you to push my way once I’m finished with mine.”

Crowley smirked. “Ah, so you’ve noticed that, huh?”

“My dear, we’ve been dining together for millennia. Yes, I’ve noticed.” Aziraphale gave Crowley a fond smile, then reached for the wine and poured them both a glass.

Then another, for himself, ten minutes later, both slices of cake devoured and forgotten.

He poured another glass eight minutes after that.

By the time his sixth glass came around, more of Aziraphale’s wine ended up on the floor than in his mouth. Crowley had seemed to take the hint that Aziraphale intended to get _quite_ drunk, and so had poured himself just as much in effort to keep up with him.

“Alllright,” Aziraphale slurred, wine sloshing over the rim of his glass as he leaned back in his chair, “I think I’m– _hic_ –Think m’ready fr’more sex!”

Crowley smiled dumbly. “Yeah?”  
“Oh yes,” Aziraphale nodded. “I’m quite drunk now, so I, I’m not as worried as before.” That, and he was wet. So very, _very_ wet, and he really wanted to feel Crowley’s cock inside of him again. He could tell by the demon’s full-blown eyes and flushed skin that he was aroused, too. Unless he was just… incredibly drunk. Aziraphale frowned and scooted his chair closer to Crowley’s to glance down at his cock. _Ah_ , he thought with a smile as he looked back up at him, _definitely aroused, then._

Crowley eyed him, growing a bit somber. “Tha’s... That’s cool, ‘Ziraphale, I want that, too, s’y’can see.” He shifted his legs, hiding away his cock before Aziraphale could reach out to touch it. “But I– _hic_ –I propose we get _un_ -drunk, in case you chhhange your mind, y’know, an’ regret it after.”

Aziraphale pouted, shaking his head. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Howbout I do it firssst, n’then you can do it,” Crowley said. He closed his eyes and sobered himself, then blinked expectantly at Aziraphale. “Come on, angel. It’s alright.”

Aziraphale whined a bit, but sobered nonetheless. He winced at the taste left in his mouth, and at the realization that he’d been eyeing Crowley’s cock perhaps a bit too openly, even given their close relationship.

“Do you, ah… You still want…?”

Aziraphale sucked in a breath. He was still incredibly wet, and it was quite clear that Crowley’s arousal hadn’t been lessened by the lack of alcohol. He could _smell_ the lust coming off of him– off the both of them! Oh, to hell with what he’d thought before about their lack of divinity–it was a _divine_ scent, that lust. It made him want to growl and nip at Crowley’s neck and ride his cock and _why_ was he still clothed? He shrugged the apron off of him and all but jumped into Crowley’s lap. “Still want.”

“ _Fuck_.”

“Please.” Aziraphale mouthed at Crowley’s neck. “Please fuck me.” He licked a stripe from the base of his shoulder to the edge of his jaw. Then, he pulled back to look him in the eye. “Just… tie me down, like we discussed earlier. I don’t want to have to worry about hurting you.”

Crowley let out a little growl and stood, Aziraphale’s legs wrapping around his waist, and carried him to the stairs before Aziraphale made a sound of protest and dropped his feet to the floor.

“After your many, _many_ accidents in the kitchen today, my dear, I think I’ll walk myself up to the bedroom, thank you.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, but made an “after you” gesture nonetheless.

Aziraphale smiled like a bastard and led the way up the stairs. He’d hardly reached the foot of the bed before he found himself thrown onto it, his back colliding with the welcoming mattress, and then something was wrapping itself around his wrists and ankles. He looked up at a smirking Crowley who stood at the edge of the bed, hand still in the air post-snap. As the ropes pulled at him until his limbs spread and secured themselves to the bedposts, he gave Crowley a hesitant look. 

Crowley frowned. “S’it not comfortable?” He raised his hand as if to snap again, and Aziraphale shook his head.

“No, no, it’s not that, it’s– Do you think these will hold?”

“Er, yeah. I mean, I think so. Unless you miracle yourself out of them. Can’t really prevent _that_ ‘less I do some sort of warding on them, and I don’t want to risk that going wrong.”

Aziraphale nodded, biting his lip as he looked away.

“Hey, don’t worry, angel. I won’t let you hurt me, okay?”

“I thought you _wanted_ me to hurt you,” Aziraphale said, his voice coming out just a tad more bitter than he’d intended.

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Crowley admitted. “But you _do_ mind, so I’m not gonna let it happen. Got it?” He crawled onto the bed and hovered over Aziraphale, running a hand through his hair and pressing kisses to his cheeks. “Trust me, Aziraphale. We’re going to be okay. _I’m_ going to be okay. Stop worrying about it.”

“Bit easier said than done, I’m afraid.”

“Well, then,” Crowley grinned, “guess I’ll just have to distract you from your worries.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and let out a little sigh as Crowley’s hand traveled from his face down his torso, coming to rest on his hip. “Mmm.”

“Yeah?” Crowley said, his voice tinged with fond amusement. “Say, didn’t I promise to tease you until you begged to come?”

“S-something like that, I believe, yes.” Aziraphale blushed, keeping his eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh, that’s right. I remember now.” Crowley lowered his head to whisper in Aziraphale’s ear, “I was gonna make you say you deserved it.” He tapped his fingers over Aziraphale’s hip, teasing down to his inner thigh before bringing his hand back up to rest on Aziraphale’s waist. “You do know that you deserve to come, don’t you?”

Aziraphale groaned. “Just… get on with it, please.”

“I don’t think you understand the meaning of the word ‘teasing’, angel.” Crowley moved his hand lower, until it was just barely grazing the little light blonde curls above Aziraphale’s clit. “I intend to take my time with you.” He licked the outer edge of his ear. “I want to find out how many different little sounds you can make.” He let his index finger tap Aziraphale’s clit once, twice, then a third time, before bringing his hand up to trace patterns on his chest. “Wanna see all the ways you shiver and squirm under my touch.”

Aziraphale whimpered and twisted uselessly in his restraints.

“Mmm, perfect, angel. Just like that.” Crowley mouthed at his neck, licking into his clavicle before running his tongue along his collarbone. “Wanna see you go mad.”

“I’m,” Aziraphale panted, “I’m going to be _quite_ mad in a moment if you don’t _touch_ me!”

Crowley chuckled. “You know,” he said, sitting up, straddling Aziraphale’s waist, “for someone who expressed an interest in being tied down and teased, you really don’t seem to understand how this works.” He lowered his voice. “The more you demand to be touched, the longer I’ll take to give you what you want. I want you shaking, Aziraphale. I want you whining and begging. I want–”

“ _Fuck_ all of that! Fuck me, _now_!”

Crowley blinked. “Uh–”

“I can’t– I can’t wait any longer. I’m so wet, and so _empty_ , Crowley, I need– I, I _need_ you inside of me, please, just– Tease me another time. Another time. I need you, now. I need you. Please. I… I’ll say I deserve it, is that what you want? I deserve it. I deserve to feel good, I’ve had enough, I need– I _deserve_ your cock. Give it to me, please, please, please, please–”

Crowley growled and shifted back, then lowered his head to Aziraphale’s dripping cunt and began working him open with his tongue.

“Mmmfuck! _Fuck_!”

Crowley grinned, flicking his tongue up and over Aziraphale’s clit, then back down to his entrance. He did this for several minutes before pulling back and lining himself up to press into Aziraphale.

“Oh– _Oh_ , fuck. Mmmmmm.” Aziraphale couldn’t decide whether to keep his eyes closed and fully immerse himself in the feeling of Crowley being inside of him, or look back into those bright, golden eyes.

“So beautiful, angel.”

Well, that settled it, then. Crowley’d spoken with such reverence, Aziraphale simply _had_ to see what sort of gaze accompanied that voice. He opened his eyes to find Crowley smiling down at him, eyes blown wide and heavy with something partly lustful but _entirely_ loving. He fucked into him slowly, methodically, taking care to hit that pleasure-filled spot inside of him with each gentle thrust. “I love you,” Aziraphale managed to say, just before he dissolved into a litany of, “Fuck me, harder, harder, yes, _fuck_ , faster, love you, love you, fuck, yes.”

Crowley seemed eager to give him what he wanted. He picked up the pace until he was slamming into Aziraphale’s cunt relentlessly, driving downright sinful moans and frenzied shouts out of the fallen angel.

It wasn’t long before Aziraphale was wrestling with his restraints, desperate to touch his lover, to yank him down by the neck and kiss him. He whined and struggled against the ropes, earning a cocked brow from Crowley.

“D’you want me to un–”

“No,” Aziraphale said quickly, falling limp against the mattress with a sigh. “No, I can’t– No. Just,” he struggled to speak, breathless from pleasure and frustration, “just keep moving.”

Crowley nodded and resumed giving him a thorough fucking. But not before leaning down to press a sweet kiss to Aziraphale’s mouth. Aziraphale bit Crowley’s bottom lip in a ridiculous attempt to keep him there, and Crowley chuckled. He began thrusting deeper, harder, but just a bit slower as he rewarded Aziraphale with languid, deep kisses for his efforts.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale murmured against reddened lips.

“Thank _you_ ,” Crowley said. “S’good on this end, too, y’know. Kissing you.”

Aziraphale answered by swiping his tongue over Crowley’s lower lip and moaning. He was on the edge, he _knew_ it. He felt his pleasure building, until he felt as though he was about to burst. “Don’t stop,” he said, as though he had any reason to believe Crowley was going to. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Crowley, I love you, you make me feel so good, fuck, fuck– I– I’m going to come.”

Crowley growled and fucked into him with a renewed fervor that shouldn’t have been possible. “Come for me, angel. You’re so fucking perfect. You want me to rub your clit? Or are you going to come on my cock, alone, Aziraphale?”

The answer made itself known, as Aziraphale tensed around Crowley’s cock before coming with a shout. He felt himself nearly lose control again, felt his claws emerge in search of something to dig into, to ground him as he launched into unfathomable bliss. Crowley’s restraints would be nothing against his power in that moment, he realized. He could snap those ropes off of him as though they were crepe paper if he really wanted to. But, blissed out as he was, his mind wasn’t entirely lost to pleasure. He thrashed around a bit, to the extent that the ropes would allow, but he willed himself to respect his own boundary, and retracted his claws.

Crowley continued fucking into him until he finally came, too, with a groan of Aziraphale’s name. The feeling of Crowley’s come inside of him made Aziraphale moan, overwhelmed with pleasure and that sense of closeness to his lover. He began to lose control of his form. 

“Oh– Oh!” Aziraphale whimpered at the sudden emergence of scales on his arms. “ _Fuck_ ,” he panicked, struggling against his restraints. He willed himself out of them in a flash and curled into himself on the bed.

“Shhh, s’alright, angel. S’alright.”

Aziraphale shook his head and tried to steady his breath.

“Listen, it’s okay,” Crowley soothed, curling himself around Aziraphale and pressing kisses behind his ear. “It’s alright. Leave them. Don’t let them spoil the moment, Aziraphale. Don’t give them that power.” He slid his hand down Aziraphale’s arm, tentatively running his fingertips over the scales. “Remember, the harder you resist them, the harder they are to get rid of. I know it’s a lot, feels like s’too much right now, but you _have_ to learn to accept them, or it’s just going to cause you more distress. You’ve got to accept yourself.”

Aziraphale sucked in a breath at the gentle touch, then shook his head, sat up and jumped back, out of Crowley’s reach. “It’s not _ME_ , Crowley!” His bottom lip began to tremble as he tried desperately to will the scales away, to no avail.

Crowley gave him a gentle, yet solemn look as he sat up and faced him. “I know, but it’s _part_ of you. Those scales are attached to your body, whether you like them or not. And, for what it’s worth, in my book that makes them _beautiful_. Aziraphale, they’re… They’re _perfect,_ because _you’re_ perfect. To me, anyway. Can’t speak for the whole Universe, but, y’know…” Crowley blew out a puff of air and fixed him with amber eyes that were brimming with adoration. “ _Fuck_ , you’re so entirely lovely, you’ve no idea. You _really_ don’t. You’re too close to it all. You can’t see how… Look, I know you don’t see it like I do. I know it’s too hard, but… Those parts of you that you hate so much… they’re _beautiful_ , angel. They really are. You may not have chosen to wear them, you may even _hate_ wearing them, but you wear them _well_.” He continued gently, “You know, it really shouldn’t be such a surprise, ‘cause She seems to do it a lot, but God really failed with this one.”

Aziraphale’s brows furrowed, his lip still quivering.

“She tried to turn an angel into a demon,” Crowley explained, “but d’y’know what’s happened?” He smiled. “You’ve just made demonic things angelic.” He reached out a hand to trace over the scales on the side of Aziraphale’s face, his smile growing more and more loving as he caressed those scales like he adored them. “ _So_ beautiful, angel. I wish you could see it.” He sighed and dropped his hand from Aziraphale’s stunned face. “But I’m not going to tell you what to do with your body. I’m not you; I can only tell you how it looks from the outside. I know what it’s like to hate a part of yourself, to feel so disconnected from a part of you that it makes you feel entirely out of place in your own body.”

Aziraphale frowned. What part of himself could he _possibly_ be talking about? Aziraphale’d never known Crowley to hate his serpent form. Nor his eyes, though he often covered them. What on Earth–

“Fangs,” Crowley said, as though Aziraphale’s thoughts had been written in ink across his troubled forehead. “I had–well, _have_ fangs. I keep them retracted. Haven’t had them out in… I don’t know, millennia. Never could get used to them, ‘specially not since I learned what they can do.”

Aziraphale’s brows shot up. “W-what can they do?”

“Venom. S’a, ah, paralyzing thing. Mine is, anyway. Paralyzes the victim from the neck down. Found out on accident when a human startled me in Rome. Same night we had those oysters, actually. After you left… It was dark and I was drunk and, and this human… He might’ve been about to rob me, I think, but I wasn’t in any real danger and I didn’t _mean_ to…” Crowley sucked in a breath. “I hadn’t ever bitten anyone before. Didn’t even know I _had_ venom. He was young, too. Couldn’t have been more than 12, 13… I don’t know. He was a _kid_. I thought I’d killed him at first, but I stuck around, y’know, panicking. I sobered up immediately and tried to, I dunno, provide some sort of care, and he just looked at me, his eyes wide, terrified, crying because it was all he could do, and I was… I felt like I was a… a monster, or something.”

Aziraphale’s heart broke for him when a tear slid down Crowley’s cheek. He felt tears well in his own eyes, the now-familiar sting hardly eliciting a quiet intake of breath.

“Anyway, it… it wore off after a few hours, and he was fine, but he was… you know, pretty clearly traumatized, and it was my fault, and– Point is, I know what it’s like to hate a part of yourself. Those fangs make me feel like I’m just some sort of… _truly_ evil thing. Or like, like an animal. A mindless predator. It wasn’t me. It _isn’t_ me. I refuse to get those things out. Ever again. Don’t even like thinking about them. Forgot I had ‘em for a while,” he said, blinking absently at the wall. He cleared his throat after a moment and shook his head.

“So, anyway,” he started, “if you want to keep hiding them–you know, the scales and things–I won’t stop you. I’ll even help you when you need it. And I’m… _Fuck_ , angel, I’m sorry if I’ve been, I dunno, overstepping or something by doting on parts of you that… that don’t _feel_ like you. I don’t want to overwhelm you, especially when it’s all still so fresh. I’ll stop if you want me to, I promise, you tell me to stop and I won’t say another word about them. But I want it on the record that you are _astoundingly_ attractive, with or without the scales. _And_ the horns. And everything else. You make everything around you beautiful just by association, angel.”

Aziraphale was overwhelmed, to say the least. He didn’t know what to feel. He had practically melted when Crowley had told him that he made scales beautiful. He wasn’t sure he believed it, and they still didn’t feel like they _belonged_ on him, but… Oh, Crowley had been so gentle, so _soothing_ in his touch. The way he’d ran his fingers over the scales, lovingly, as though they were precious, as though he _worshipped_ them simply for being part of Aziraphale’s face. Aziraphale didn’t feel that they _were_ a part of him, not really, but… it’d felt so good for them to be _touched!_ They’d been so neglected, and Aziraphale knew it wasn’t so but he almost felt as though the scales themselves had been longing to be loved, and Crowley had _given_ them that and, _oh!_ He _needed_ that again.

With a tentative hand, Aziraphale reached for Crowley and brought his lover’s hand back up to the side of his face. He looked to him with big eyes, the black irises expanding just a bit into his scleras, and, his heart pounding in his chest, he mouthed, _Please_.

Crowley’s eyes, still misty from recounting his trauma, softened, and he sucked in a breath as he began to caress the side of Aziraphale’s face once more. Aziraphale leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed, and allowed a small, contented sigh to fall from his lips. “So beautiful,” Crowley whispered.

Aziraphale began to protest that they weren’t, but Crowley pressed a finger to his downturned mouth, prompting him to open his eyes and stare back into those loving amber ones.

“ _Beautiful_ ,” Crowley repeated. “Like every part of you. Absolutely fucking _beautiful_ , angel.”

Aziraphale elected not to protest this time, instead releasing a little moan and closing his eyes once more. He let Crowley run his fingertips over the scaleson his face, trailing down to his neck and back up, before he gulped and looked back at him. “I…”

Crowley paused his movements, and raised a gentle brow.

“I think I…” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “I think I might want, um… That is, if you would, possibly, er… My– The, er…”

“It’s okay, angel. Whatever you want. You’ll get no judgement from me.”

“Oh, I know that,” Aziraphale said with a grateful smile. “I just…”

“You’re not sure what you want,” Crowley deduced. Aziraphale nodded and averted his gaze. “That’s okay. You don’t have to rush this, angel. If you don’t feel ready for, y’know, whatever it is that–”

Aziraphale realized that the only thing holding him back was his ability to voice what it was that he really wanted, so he instead cut Crowley off by grabbing his hand and guiding it to the horn on the left side of his forehead. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Crowley’s gaze as he said,“Don’t go tugging them.” He’d spoken in a teasing tone, but his voice was still small and riddled with uncertainty.

“I won’t tug them unless you ask me to,” Crowley said, a hint of a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. But when Aziraphale dared to meet his gaze, Crowley’s eyes remained soft, careful–clearly recognizing that this was an incredibly vulnerable moment for Aziraphale. Crowley traced the horn from the base to the tip, then back down again, paying special attention to the sensitive skin and scales surrounding it.

“Oh, that’s…,” Aziraphale sighed, “that’s lovely.”

Crowley smiled and gave the other horn the same gentle treatment. He didn’t remark on them, didn’t call them “beautiful”–which Aziraphale was quite glad for; he was nowhere near ready to think of them as such. But oh, it felt so good for them to finally be touched. It felt _wonderful_ , that slow caress. Aziraphale couldn’t help but sigh and lean into it.

Then Crowley did something Aziraphale was entirely unprepared for. He pulled back, lifted his head, and pressed a kiss to the left horn, then the right. 

Well, that _really_ did Aziraphale in. His gentle whimper evolved into a moan, which became a growl, and before he knew it he was groaning, “Fuck me, Crowley, fuck me _right_ now. Please. Make love to me, you wonderful, _incredible_ demon.”

Crowley barked a laugh that was caught somewhere between surprise and amusement as he said, “You ready again already?”

Aziraphale nodded hurriedly. His voice slid into a whine as he rambled, “Please, please, please, enter me, please, I need you inside of me, I ache for it, you’ve made me feel so loved, dear, I want you inside of me, I w–”

“Okay,” Crowley chuckled, pressing more kisses to those long-neglected horns as he ran his fingers over Aziraphale’s shoulders and chest. “Okay, angel. Alright. Calm down.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Can’t calm down. I need you, I’m so _unbelievably_ aroused, please, please, get inside of me right this moment before I discorporate, please, please, pl– _Oh!_ Mmmyesfuckpleasehurry.” Aziraphale moaned at the sudden feeling of Crowley’s cock teasing his entrance.

“What, you mean _now_?”

Aziraphale merely whimpered.

Crowley chuckled. “Alright, angel. S’lucky for you I don’t have to have a refractory period if I don’t want to.” He leaned down to press a kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek, then slid in with a contented sigh.

Aziraphale, though… Aziraphale was far past the point of sighing. He groaned and clung to Crowley’s waist, digging his nails into the tight skin, and tried to fuck himself on the demon’s cock from a very unaccommodating angle. With a frustrated growl, he fell still against the mattress and said, “ _Move_.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir,” Crowley said, then beamed down at him. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but didn’t reply because Crowley had started properly fucking into him, and, well, that was a bit distracting.

Aziraphale dissolved once more into moans and whimpers and whines and, “Oh, fuck, Crowley, _yes_ , like that, _yes_.”

Crowley chuckled. “When did you become so insatiable?”

Aziraphale merely groaned in reply and reached out for Crowley’s hand. Once he had hold of it, he brought it to the scales on the side of his face and urged him to drag his fingers over them. Crowley smiled and complied. Aziraphale found himself growing just a bit envious of Crowley’s ability to be so gentle and attentive whilst fucking him so thoroughly. He could even form full, coherent sentences! Where on _Earth_ did he manage to gather that kind of focus? Aziraphale could hardly just lie there and get fucked without becoming a babbling mess.

But Crowley seemed to adore that babbling mess, so Aziraphale let himself fall into it, like he was being pulled under passionate waters, deeper, deeper, until all he could fathom was pleasure and love. Oh, _so_ much love. He could drown in it, he thought, and he’d be grateful for the opportunity. He was so cared for, so adored, and, oh, _Lord_ , did he also care for and adore Crowley. It was overwhelming.

Crowley continued stroking those scales, down his neck, his arms, the sides of his torso, over his hips, then he dragged his fingers back up to the scales on his forehead, just below the horns.

Oh, the horns. He’d nearly forgotten. How _neglected_ they were! Aziraphale made a small, desperate noise in the back of his throat. He grabbed Crowley’s hands and brought them up until they had a firm grasp of the horns on his head. “Tug,” he ordered, suddenly finding it difficult to utter more than one word at a time. “ _Please_.”

Crowley somehow managed to maintain his pace fucking into him as he gaped down at Aziraphale. Then, the look of pleasant surprise became a soft smile, which then became a smirk. He tightened his grip on the horns and pulled, just enough that Aziraphale would be able to feel it. Encouraged by Aziraphale’s ragged moan, he tugged a bit harder, eliciting an even more guttural sound from the fallen angel. “Mm, like that, do you?”

He really did. It was a bit like when he’d had his hair pulled earlier, but perhaps even more erotic, because the horns themselves were still so new, and the sensations they produced were so unfamiliar.

Aziraphale groaned and threw his legs around Crowley’s waist, urging him to thrust harder. Crowley groaned and then let out a near-imperceptible whimper, earning a satisfied smile from Aziraphale. He’d been feeling a bit alone in the whole, er, losing-oneself-to-pleasure thing. It felt like a victory to see Crowley’s smoothness falter a bit. “Oh, yes,” Aziraphale managed to say, smugly, “I like that quite a lot. Do keep it up, dear.”

“Damn you,” Crowley grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as he fucked into him roughly. He tightened his grip on the horns even more and tugged again.

Aziraphale groaned, then said, “Already have been.” He’d said it without much thought. Then it hit him. _Oh. I really_ have _been, haven’t I? Damned, that is._

Crowley seemed to catch onto Aziraphale’s train of thought, and distracted him with another tug to those wretched, sensitive horns. Well, the horns themselves weren’t sensitive so much as the skin that surrounded them at the base was. Every tug made Aziraphale’s forehead buzz with pleasure. The harder the tug, the deeper that buzzing sensation. It was pure bliss, and the fact that it hurt just a _bit_ made it all the more erotic. Aziraphale was beginning to understand why Crowley might like being clawed at, though he didn’t think he’d personally be able to enjoy _that_ much pain.

“Wanna taste you,” Crowley moaned, giving a few quick tugs to the horns. “Need to taste you. Love you so much, angel. Need your,” another moan, “need your cunt on my mouth, your clit on my tongue.”

“What, _now_?!” Aziraphale asked incredulously, then whimpered at the loss of Crowley’s cock inside of him as the demon pulled out and scrambled down his body.

Crowley nodded. “Now,” he said, then began lapping at Aziraphale’s cunt. “Mmmph,” he moaned, pulling back to place a kiss on a neglected clit. “Taste so good. Never cleaned you up after the first round. Gonna lick my come out of you before I fill you up with more.”

Aziraphale groaned and threw his head back on the mattress, fisting his hands in the sheets, as Crowley followed through on his promise. He thrust his tongue deep inside of him and curled it, spooning his own seed into his mouth like he was starving for it. Aziraphale thought he might go mad from the sensation and the mere _concept_ of Crowley performing such a lewd yet wonderfully intimate act. “Crowley,” he said, his voice somewhere between a moan and a sigh. “Crowley, I– I’m going to come if you don’t stop.”

“Ha-tha-hi-leah,” Crowley said, tongue still buried deep in Aziraphale’s pussy.

Aziraphale looked at him like he’d just spoken in tongues.

Crowley rolled his eyes, but grinned nonetheless as he pulled away just enough to say, “That’s the idea.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale shifted away from Crowley when the demon attempted to return his mouth to him. “No, you– You ridiculous, insatiable fiend!” Crowley let out something akin to a delighted giggle and sat up between Aziraphale’s slick, quivering thighs with a grin. “My _point_ was that I want to come with you inside of me again!”

“Ohhhhh,” Crowley said, his nod coming off just a _bit_ mocking. “But I’m the ridiculous, insatiable one. Look at you, angel.” Crowley gave him a once-over, clicking his tongue. “I’ve barely cleaned you up and you’re already shaking for my cock. You want my come in your sweet, hot cunt again? Want me to mess you right back up already?”

“If you would be so kind,” Aziraphale said primly, determined to maintain his calm exterior now that he’d managed to gather it. He’d had quite enough of being unable to form complete sentences, thank you.

That all went out the window, of course, as soon as Crowley thrust back into him.

“Mmfuck, _yes,_ fuck, mmmmm _Crowley_ , mmmmm.” Aziraphale’s body seemed to twitch of its own accord, writhing under his lover as he gripped the pillow above his head for dear life with one hand and ran the other one up and down his chest and neck. “Mmmm, mmmph, ohhhh.”

“Gonna come,” Crowley announced, then reached a hand down to rub at Aziraphale’s clit. “Come with me, angel. Come on.”

Aziraphale nodded dumbly and chewed on his lower lip, wishing he was chewing on Crowley’s. Then he realized his hands weren’t restrained this time around, so he grabbed the demon’s face with both hands and pulled him down until their lips met. They kissed sloppily and deeply through their orgasms, Crowley coming inside of Aziraphale just before the fallen angel came on his cock and the erratic fingers on his clit. Only when the waves of pleasure began to subside did Crowley pull back to smile at him.

“You’re gorgeous, y’know that?” Crowley said, staring into black eyes. Aziraphale’d felt the loss of control of his scleras when he came, but had made no effort to pull them back in to their more human appearance.

Aziraphale would’ve blushed if his face hadn’t been pink already. “I– Thank you.”

“Mm.” Crowley sighed and dropped his head to Aziraphale’s chest. They took a few deep breaths together before bursting into gleeful chuckles. Then, “You know, you weren’t even restrained that time, angel.” Crowley lifted his head to meet Aziraphale’s black gaze and smiled. “You held control of yourself just fine. No claws, no wings.” He shrugged. “‘Course the scales were already out.” He grinned and reached up to trace a finger down the length of a horn. “And these.”

Aziraphale shuddered, turning his head away from Crowley.

“Er… Sorry, did I– Do you not…?”

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale admitted. “I don’t… I was so caught up in my arousal, Crowley, I don’t think I really, um…”

“Hey,” Crowley soothed, putting a hand on Aziraphale’s cheek. “You don’t have to be best friends with them. You can make every effort to keep them tucked away forever, if that’s what you want. I won’t say anything about it. Don’t bring ‘em out just to please me, angel.”

Aziraphale swallowed and lifted his gaze to Crowley’s. “But I _like_ pleasing you. I like seeing you pleased. It pleases _me_. A-and I… Well, it _did_ feel… good. When you touched them. I’ve,” he sighed, “I’ve been so repulsed by them. But you… You made me feel… connected to them, in a way.”

“Well, that’s good, yeah?”

Aziraphale smiled softly. “Yes.” His expression fell into a frown. “But I still don’t… I don’t know, Crowley, I… I don’t think I could bear to _see_ myself with them. To have them out, outside of… Er… Well… I quite liked you touching them, that much I… I won’t deny. But I don’t want to see them in my reflection. That is, I only want–”

“Angel, angel, shh, hey,” Crowley said, then pressed a gentle kiss to his brow. “It’s alright. I get it. S’fine. They can be a bedroom-only thing. Get ‘em out like any other couple would with their, er, y’know. Bedroom accessories.” He gave a shit-eating grin, then said, “Whenever you’re feeling horny.”

Aziraphale fixed him with a flat stare. “ _Really,_ ” he tutted.

Crowley threw his head back and cackled. “It was there, angel, I couldn’t–” he cleared his throat, gathering himself, “I couldn’t pass it up.”

“Quite,” Aziraphale said, clearly not amused. “Well, anyway, I suppose you’re right. I think I could grow used to them in the right context.”

“That context being when I’m stroking them, and tugging on ‘em and kissing ‘em.” Crowley frowned and cocked his head. “D’y’think it’d feel good for you if I licked them? Wonder what they taste like. Y’know, f’they taste like anything.” He widened his eyes and licked his lips before suggesting, “I could give them a few good sucks, see if that does anything for you. Long as you don’t impale me or something.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Crowley, I would love to explore this with you at a later time, but I am rather worn-out, as it were.”

“Mm, right, yeah.” Crowley looked a little distant, as though he were exploring those possibilities on his own in the corner of his mind. He shook his head and blew out a puff of air. “Well, then.” He shifted down the bed until he was between Aziraphale’s legs.

“What on Earth are you doing _now_?”

Crowley grinned. “I’ve still gotta clean you up.”

Aziraphale eyed him for a moment, then sighed. “Fine,” he said, “but I’m going to rest while you’re at it.” He closed his eyes and put his hands behind his head.

“S’fine. You just lie there and let me lick you, then.”

Aziraphale hummed in agreement. “Love you, dearest,” he murmured as he drifted off.

He woke some hours later, wrapped up in Crowley. Quite literally, he realized. Or, wrapped _around_ him, somehow. How was he wrapped _around_ him?! His… It felt like half of his body was coiled around Crowley’s leg.

Aziraphale lifted his head to look at the sleeping demon he’d been resting on, and felt himself panic at the realization that Crowley was entirely too big. Far too big! He shouldn’t be that big no matter _how_ close they were in proximity. Had Aziraphale shrunk? Why would he have _shrunk_?!

Aziraphale uncoiled himself from Crowley and slithered off of him, and in doing so he realized what his problem was.

He was a snake.


	9. Chapter 9

Crowley woke to the sound of hissing. _Panicked_ hissing, the snake part of him recognized. Panicked hissing that was definitely coming from Aziraphale.

On instinct, he took on his own snake form, and curled himself around Aziraphale in a comforting manner. He then realized that Aziraphale would probably have much rather preferred he simply miracle him back to his usual form, as he’d done the last time. But, Aziraphale needed to learn how to, er, unsnake himself, and this was as good a time as any, Crowley thought.

“It’sss okay, Aziraphale,” he said, “lisssten, s’okay. It’s not permanent. You know it’s not permanent.”

Aziraphale coiled himself around Crowley, clinging to him as if for dear life.

“I can help you learn how to shift out of it, yeah? And talk. You’ve gotta use a miracle. Think you can give it a try, angel? C’mon. Jussst… imagine yourself ssspeaking.”

Aziraphale’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and then he curled even tighter around Crowley.

“Sssqueezin’ the life out of me, angel,” Crowley hissed, wiggling around beneath him. “M’not keen on being discorporated as a sssnake. Or at all. You need me here, don’t you? Loosen up a bit. That’sss it.”

“Sssry.”

Crowley rubbed the side of his head against Aziraphale’s encouragingly. “That’s it! You’ve almost got it. What’re you saying, Aziraphale? Think about what you want to say, not on how you’d say it.”

Aziraphale seemed to be nodding to himself, then he said, “I ssssssaid I’m ssssssorry.”

Crowley couldn’t help but chuckle at the intensity of Aziraphale’s hissing.

“Sssssstop laughing at me! It’sssssssssssss–”

“You get sssstuck?”

“‘sss _hard!_ ” Aziraphale somehow managed to portray that he was pouting despite his limited ability to wear expressions, which sent Crowley into a full-on laughing fit. “Ssssssstop that, or I’ll bite you.”

“You…,” Crowley said through chuckles, “you wouldn’t dare.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth and brought out his fangs.

“Okay, okay,” Crowley said. “Sssorry.”

“Pleassssse help me out of thissss,” Aziraphale said, sounding quite miserable. Crowley felt bad for teasing him.

“Right. Sss’like the other stuff, yeah?” Crowley managed to slither out of Aziraphale’s grasp and un-snaked himself on the bed. “Gotta accept it, then tell it to fuck off.” He shifted back into snake form and pressed the side of his head to Aziraphale’s, then gave him some space. “Try it.”

Aziraphale wiggled a bit and then got very still.

Crowley watched. And watched. And watched. After a few minutes, he said, “Maybe… Er, do you wanna talk about it? Help you get to the, you know, the acceptance part?”

“I hate thisss,” was all Aziraphale said in response.

“I know, I’m sorry, angel.” Crowley hesitated before saying, “F’it helps at all, I think you’re beautiful in this form, too.”

Aziraphale gave him a flat look. Which, really, was the only look he could manage in his current form. “Don’t be ridiculous, dear.”

“You are! You’re wonderfully thick, for one. And s’a pretty color you’ve got. Like cream. And ssspotted with those warm shades of brown… Suits you.”

Aziraphale sank his head down deep into the mattress, as if attempting to burrow in the sheets. “I’m rough and awful. Not sssssmooth and lovely, as you are.”

“Still look good to me. I’ve always been a fan of keeled ssscales.”

“Well, it’sss not very _me_ , isss it?”

“It is right now,” Crowley noted gently. “You’ve gotta accept that if you want to change it.”

Aziraphale made a small whimpering noise and burrowed deeper in the rumpled sheets.

Crowley considered what to do next. He didn’t want to resort to changing Aziraphale back himself. After a moment, he shifted back to his human form, and reached a tentative hand out towards Aziraphale.

“What are you doing?”

“I was gonna try touching you, if that’s alright.”

“I am really _not_ in the mood.” Aziraphale’s voice got quiet as he added, “And I’m not entirely sure how you would even _do_ that…”

Crowley grimaced. “ _Christ_ , Aziraphale, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant I’d run my hand over you. You know, pet you, sort of. Help you feel a little more… I dunno, at home?”

“I’ve no intention of feeling ‘at home’ in thisss awful form.”

“Well, then, I guess you’d better get used to being a snake. Because I’m not miracling you out of this one, angel. You can’t rely on me to– I mean, really, what are you going to do if you snake out while I’m gone? You’d have to curl up and wait for me to find you.”

“…I wasss rather hoping you wouldn’t be leaving any time ssssoon.”

Crowley softened. “I’m not. I don’t plan to, anyway. But, you know, in time… If I’m out taking care of my plants or something, and you’re on your own… What are you going to do? Slither over to the phone and dial me with your tail?” He blanked a moment while mulling over the mental image.

“–then.”

Crowley shook his head and refocused his attention on Aziraphale. “Sorry?”

“I sssaid, ‘I guesss you’d better go on and pet me, then.’”

“Right. Good.” Crowley gave a firm nod, then reached back out for Aziraphale. He placed a gentle finger on the top of his head, right between his eyes, and ran it back over the rest of his body. He repeated the motion a few times before asking, his voice soft, “How’s this feel?”

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, his body inching slightly upward into every gentle stroke. “It’ssss actually rather nice.”

“Mm. Thought so.” Crowley had never really been touched in snake form, but he’d always enjoyed the feeling of nestling into his bed for a nap. The warm, soft fabric always felt so good against his scales. “Just relax, angel.” He continued petting him, then chewed his lower lip before asking, “Can I pick you up? Are you alright with me handling you?”

“I… I ssssuppose. But it feels sssso nice here in the bed,” Aziraphale said, a slight pout to his voice. Crowley found it _adorable_ , and couldn’t help the grin that broke out on his face. “What?” Aziraphale demanded.

“Nothing, just. You’re cute,” said Crowley as he reached to pick Aziraphale up from the middle of his body, using his hands to support him at two evenly spaced out points. He ran his thumbs over his scales as he smiled down at him.

“I’m not! Sssstop it.”

“Mmhm.” Crowley cackled, bringing Aziraphale’s head to his eye level. “Cute snake,” he said.

“I think not.”

“I think yes.”

“Crowley!”  
Crowley grinned. “Cute snake!”

“Ssstop!”

“F’you don’t want me to call you that, then stop being a snake.” Crowley shrugged. “Simple as that.”

“I can’t.”

“So you’ve said. _Try_ , Aziraphale. You’ve done it with your scales–”

“That’sss different! Thisss iss my _entire_ _body_!”

“–and I think you’re clever enough to apply that method to this. Just focus.”

“Rather difficult when one’s idiot husband won’t stop persssecuting them,” Aziraphale pouted.

“‘Persssecuting’, huh?”

“Crowley, this isn’t funny!”

Crowley sobered. “I know. I’m sorry, angel, I’m not trying to be cruel, I’m just… I want to get you to lighten up a bit. The more weight you give this, the heavier it’ll be, yeah? So, you know. Jussssssst–”

“How would you have liked it if sssomeone had mocked you when you were firssst experiencing thisss form?”

Crowley’s jaw tightened, his lips coming to rest in a thin line. _Oh_. _Oh, yeah, that would… Oh, shit._ “Shit, I’m– I’m sorry, Aziraphale.” He remembered the first time he’d taken snake form. It was on Earth, in the Garden, before the big Temptation. He really hadn’t wanted to be a snake to begin with. He’d asked why he couldn’t just start some trouble in his usual form. Beelzebub had glared at him, telling him, “That’zz the way it must be, azzz it has been prophesied.”

He’d had to practice taking the form, and shifting out of it had been _quite_ difficult the first few times. He’d been alone, tucked away behind a row of bushes, hissing as he tried with all his power and focus to _just have_ legs _again, damn it_! It’d been frustrating enough as it was, not to mention humiliating to be unable to control his own form. If someone had seen him? Had teased his hissing, had called him _cute_?

Aziraphale sighed. “I know you’re only trying to help, dear. But I’m… I’m ssso _tired_ of all this.”

Crowley nodded, blinking back tears as he set Aziraphale down on the bed, and scooted back a bit. Without a word, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Aziraphale shifted back into his more human form, and both of them breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, dear.”

“It’s not.”

“You didn’t mean any harm, I know. I’m not upset.” Aziraphale cocked his head in a considerate nod. “Well, not now, anyway.”

Crowley blinked a few times, then sighed. “Guess we’ll have to teach you how to shift your form another day.”

Aziraphale hummed in agreement. They sat in silence on the bed for a moment before Crowley realized something.

“You called me ‘husband’.”

Aziraphale blushed, and gave a nod. “Mm. ‘ _Idiot_ husband’, as I recall.”

“Yeah, that’s not the bit that stuck with me.”

“No, I suppose not.”

It was silent again for a moment, the both of them looking down at their hands, or the creases of sheets between them… anywhere but at each other.

Finally, Aziraphale broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “Should I not have–”

“No!” Crowley rushed to say, much louder and more frantic than he’d intended. He lowered his voice and fixed Aziraphale with a sincere gaze. “No, it was fine, I just… I wasn’t– I mean, do you think of us like that? Married?”

Aziraphale swallowed. “Er, perhaps a bit.”

Crowley quirked a brow. “‘A bit’ married?”

“Well, it’s not as though we’ve exchanged vows. Or had a proper wedding, of course.”

“Not that I can remember, no.”

“But, I– Well, I suppose I have always felt, er… committed to you. Even before I felt safe enough to admit it, you know, I… I… Well, I thought of you as… as mine.” Aziraphale gulped. “N-not that, er, you _belong_ to me, of course, b-but, well, er, you see, w-when the humans began to make a big thing about such unions, well I couldn’t help but think of you and I–even though of course at the time I was, ah, rather repressed about the whole thing–a-and anyway, after we averted the apocalypse, you know, we’d made a bit of a show of our commitment to–well, to the world, I suppose, but also quite obviously to each other, as well, and I, er, well, I–”

“Angel,” Crowley interrupted, suddenly grinning. “It’s fine. More than fine, actually. You can call me your husband. I’d be more than happy to call you mine.”

“Oh. Oh, good.” Aziraphale closed his eyes in relief, then opened them to give Crowley the softest, most joyous look he’d ever seen. “I’m– Crowley, that’s so lovely to hear.”

Crowley nodded rapidly, then took a deep breath. “So. Snusbands, then?” he asked, extending a hand as if to make a deal.

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand on impulse, but knit his brows. “Sorry?”

“Snake husbands,” Crowley managed to say with a straight face. He gave Aziraphale’s hand a few shakes and then brought it to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to it.

Aziraphale fixed him with a flat stare. “You know, I think I might want a divorce,” he said, snatching his hand back to himself.

“ _Hah!_ Can’t get a divorce on an unofficial marriage, can you?”

“Well, then,” said Aziraphale, a small, coy smile tugging at his lips, “perhaps we ought to do something about that.”

Crowley gulped and blinked at him. “Uh… yeah?”

“Mm. You know, so that I can properly divorce you afterward for your terrible sense of humor.”

“You love it,” Crowley stated, his confident, gleeful smile returning. “You know you do.”

“I love _you._ Your jokes, on the other hand…” Aziraphale let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, they leave something to be desired, my dear.”

Crowley feigned a pout. “Oh, that hurts, angel.”

“I’m sure you’ll live,” said Aziraphale flatly. He was silent for a moment, frowning to himself.

“Something on your mind?” Crowley asked, his voice no longer tinged with humor.

“Nothing, really. It’s just… Earlier, when I was a… Ah… Why was I so much larger than when you found me like that before?”

Crowley shrugged. “You wanted to be? I dunno, angel. You know size is fluid for us. Remember how big I was in the Garden? These days I’m more… Well, usually about as big as we were just then.” Crowley blew out a sigh. “Weren’t you about to give me a ring?” he asked, as though he didn’t care.

Aziraphale quirked a teasing brow. “Was I?”

“Well, you were proposing marriage. Can’t do that without a ring.”

“No, I suppose not,” Aziraphale agreed. His voice was casual, but there was a twinkle in his eye as he began fussing with his hands. No, that wasn’t it– He was– He was removing his ring. The one that’d graced his little finger for so long it was practically a part of him. He was removing _that_ ring, and… and reaching for Crowley’s hand. “My dear,” said Aziraphale, and Crowley had to fight to hear him over his own pulse pounding away in his ears, “will you do me the honor…” Aziraphale singled out Crowley’s ring finger and held the ring patiently at the tip of it, “of officially becoming mine?”

Crowley gulped, staring blankly at his hand, so delicately held by Aziraphale’s, and nodded. Then, remembering that this was, you know, kind of a big moment, he looked up and grinned at Aziraphale. “I do.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “You _will_ ,” he corrected, slipping the ring onto Crowley’s finger and leaning in for a kiss. “I may now kiss the, er, spouse,” he murmured through a smile against Crowley’s lips, then giggled gleefully, and _fuck,_ if that didn’t just take his breath away.

Crowley whimpered, just a _bit_ overwhelmed by the whole thing, and pressed closer to Aziraphale. His husband. _His_. He pressed kisses to his lips, his jaw, his neck, then pulled away and looked down at Aziraphale’s ringless hands. “Right,” he said. “My turn, then.”

Aziraphale smiled and sat up straight, a little wiggle in his movement as he did so.

“Just, let me think about it,” Crowley said, a concentrated frown on his face as he stared at his own hands. “Gotta whip one out from nowhere and I wanna make sure it’s… Okay, I’ve got it.” He sucked in a breath, then clicked his fingers and produced a ring from his palm. It was a simple silver band, with intricate black detailing in infinity loops all around it. Crowley frowned down at it. “It’s… I know it doesn’t look like much, but it’s– I made it from my glasses. One of the pairs I’ve got, I mean. Condensed it and reformed it and– You know what, it’s stupid, I’m sorry. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, I can– I’ll come up with s–”

Aziraphale placed a finger on Crowley’s lips, bringing his rambling to a halt and prompting him to look up into teary black eyes. “Crowley, it’s _lovely,”_ said Aziraphale, his voice dripping with love. “Place it on my finger, please.”

Crowley did so quickly, as though he thought Aziraphale might back out at the last second. _Hah_ , he thought to himself as he grinned down at the hand in his own, _got him_.

Aziraphale let out a sweet little sigh, and leaned forward until his forehead was touching Crowley’s. Then he pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and pulled back to smile at him.

“So… that it, then?” Crowley wondered aloud. “We just… consider ourselves married?”

“I think so,” Aziraphale said with a firm nod. “We’ve really no need for any paperwork on the matter; we’d long outlive its relevance. I think… our simple exchange just then ought to count.”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah, guess so.”

Aziraphale eyed him with a considerate frown. “Unless of course you’d _prefer_ to have a wedding… although I’m not sure who we would invite.”

“No, I’m happy with what we’ve got. Unless _you_ want–”

“I’m perfectly content,” Aziraphale said with a chuckle. “I now pronounce us, er, husb–”

“I object,” Crowley said, grinning at the pout it provoked from Aziraphale. “If we’re doing this ourselves, we at least oughta do it properly,” he explained. “We should be standing. And dressed. We’re kind of, y’know, naked.”

“Oh, goodness. Well, we can’t have that, can we?” said Aziraphale through a teasing smile.

“Nope,” said Crowley, who promptly rolled off the bed and stood, miracling an outfit on with a mere thought. He wore a white satin suit jacket with a peak collar, and a black and grey tie… a subtly but unquestionably _tartan_ tie, in fact. His trousers were black, as were his shoes, which had just a bit of heel to them. His hair had arranged itself quite neatly, and he had sparkling red nail polish on his fingertips.

Aziraphale gasped and looked at Crowley with wonder-filled eyes. “Oh, Crowley… You look absolutely _stunning_ , dear. I always did love you in white.”

_I know_ , Crowley thought as he beamed, then gestured toward Aziraphale. “Your turn, then.”

Aziraphale stood, and a moment later was dressed in a classic black suit, tailcoat and all, complete with a sparkling red bowtie. At Crowley’s raised brow, he put on a bashful smile and said, “Well, I thought, since you wore tartan, and I know you don’t especially like it… Well, I’d like to honor your, ah, your usual color scheme.”

Crowley was grinning as he said, “You’re gorgeous, angel. Perfect. Picture of beauty, really. I can’t get enough of you. Now, come on. Downstairs.”

“Crowley, _really,_ is that necess–”

“You’re getting as close a thing to a beautiful wedding as we can manage, yeah? Come on.” Crowley snapped his fingers, prompting the door to open. He stepped out until he reached the top of the stairs, and extended an arm towards Aziraphale.

The stairs were lined with red rose petals, while the railing was elegantly wrapped in vines. Aziraphale looked to Crowley with an expression so full of love that he thought he might melt under it, so he took his hand and turned back toward the stairs, leading Aziraphale down with him. They came to stop in the middle of the shop, between the pillars, which had also been miraculously wrapped in vines–though these ones were adorned with white blossoms. The floor where they stood was sprinkled with more rose petals.

When Crowley finally settled his gaze on Aziraphale, those big black eyes were brimming with tears. “Oh, don’t do that, angel,” he said, his voice soft. He reached a hand out and brushed a tear from Aziraphale’s cheek. It didn’t sting. Crowley smiled, pleased to find that Aziraphale’s tears were no longer laced with holiness, and did his best not to think about how that meant his fall was officially complete. _Not the time._

“It’s– The shop, Crowley, it’s– You’ve made it so– I’m so happy,” said Aziraphale, his voice breaking just a bit as he leaned into the hand Crowley’d placed on his cheek. “I’m so happy, Crowley, you’ve made me _so_ happy.”

“Will you let me keep doing that? You know… For as long as we both shall live?”

Aziraphale huffed a laugh, tears still falling from his eyes as he nodded, smiling. “I will. I most _definitely_ will.”

Crowley beamed, sliding his hands down until he could hold Aziraphale’s. “I promise to love you,” he said, holding Aziraphale’s watery gaze, “protect you, honor you, _cherish_ you… I promise to be honest, respectful, and… and kind. Whatever you need, Aziraphale, if I can be it, I will.” Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s tear-stained cheek, then lowered his voice to say softly in his ear, “I promise to be yours, eternally, angel.”

Aziraphale was fully sobbing, but gathered himself quite quickly upon the conclusion of Crowley’s improvised vows. “I– I don’t think I could manage to say anything half as sweet, dear,” he said, “but I will try. Because you’re worth it, Crowley. You’re worth all the effort I could possibly put forth. You’re worth… You’re worth falling for, my love. And I will spend the rest of our existence showing you just how glad I am to have you, to hold you, and to love you.”

_Worth falling for_. The words echoed in Crowley’s mind and looped over each other. Crowley really didn’t know how to feel about that, but he was so caught up in the bliss of marrying his best friend of 6,000 years that he decided not to dwell on it. He mentally batted the phrase away and smiled back at Aziraphale. “I love you,” he said.

“I love _you_ ,” said Aziraphale, tenderly holding Crowley’s gaze for what felt like hours. (It was about eight seconds.) The black of his eyes expanded into his scleras for a moment before he reined them back in. Finally, he sighed. “Right, then. _Now_ will you let me pronounce us husbands?”

Crowley grinned. “Now I will, yeah.”

“Well, then. As I’ve said. I pronounce us husbands. Er, spouses of unspecified gender, really, but I think for the sake of–”

“Just, _kiss_ your husband, will you?”

“Oh, yes. I can certainly do that.” And so he did. They kissed sweetly at first, then deeply and with increasing passion, mussing up each other’s hair and rumpling their clothes in the process. They were breathless when they finally pulled away several minutes later. Aziraphale cleared his throat and adjusted his bowtie. “Well, now that we’re properly wed–by our standards, anyway–I suppose we ought to celebrate.”

“Oh, you _suppose_ , do you?” teased Crowley as Aziraphale reached out to fix his tie.

Aziraphale shot his husband an unappreciative frown but continued nonetheless. “We’ll have some wine, and, er, perhaps get a bit cozy on the sofa.”

Crowley’s grin was laced with adoration. “Comfy little honeymoon at home, hm?”

“Well, it’s not as though we can go out, you know.”

“Nnnh, yeah, forgot about, y’know,” Crowley waved his hand in a vague gesture toward the shop’s front door, “all that.”

Aziraphale hummed in agreement. Then, in a quiet voice, he asked, “Do you… Do you think things are alright? Out there, I mean. With the virus and all.”

Crowley frowned. “Dunno. I haven’t given it much thought, really.”

“No, neither have I. Been a bit preoccupied.”

Crowley nodded, somewhat absently. He sucked in a breath, then turned to Aziraphale. “Wine, then?”

Aziraphale licked his lips and nodded several times. “Mm, yes, let’s.”

Crowley beamed and extended an arm toward the back of the shop. “After you, dear husband.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i honestly didn't intend for them to get married in this chapter (or in this fic at all really) but they uhhh took on a life of their own and decided to do it against my will. sentimental bastards.
> 
> YAY SNUSBANDS
> 
> apologies to crowley for using him as a vehicle to tell my bad puns.
> 
> also i have finally properly outlined the rest of this fic and thus should be able to have an actual remaining chapter estimate by the next time i post (hopefully).


	10. Chapter 10

Aziraphale was entirely maudlin. It’d happened too slowly for Crowley to catch it and confiscate his husband’s wine. They’d been celebrating their impromptu marriage, sipping on wine and cuddling up on the sofa, and Aziraphale had subtly grown more and more drunk as the day turned into evening. He was anything but subtle, now.

“And why a _snake_?!” Aziraphale wailed, wine spilling over the side of his glass, prompting Crowley to grab it and set it down out of his husband’s reach. “Of all the demonic creatures– a _sssnake_! As if– _hic_ –as if to _mock_ our love!”

Crowley, who was only pleasantly tipsy, nodded and heaved a sigh. “S’weird, too, ‘cause I wasn’t even a snake to begin with,” he noted. “I just took that form to do the Big Temptation in the Garden, ’n sort of stuck with it after that.”

Aziraphale blinked dumbly for a moment. Then, slurring his speech, “It’s as though She’s telling us, ‘Alllllright, then, f’you’re going to choose each other over Me then you can just… go off’n be cunning, treacherousss snakes together.” He settled into a pout. “Our love is sacred, you know,” he muttered, and Crowley smiled softly at him.

“Oh, I know, angel. Believe me, I know.”

“ _She_ ought t’know it, too,” Aziraphale huffed. “She should–” He cut himself off in favor of increasing the volume of his voice, startling Crowley in the process as he cried, “She should show us s’m’rspect! She’s probably just envious that _She_ doesn’t have such– _hic_ –such a wonderful lover!” Crowley blushed at that, but made no effort to contradict his husband as Aziraphale continued, “How _dare_ She make a mah– a mock– a mockery of it!” He pouted, quieting his distressed voice. “Turning me into a snake,” he continued to say, as though the topic hadn’t been exhaustively covered. Then, he carelessly thwacked Crowley in the chest with the back of his hand as he said, “And you’re _also_ a snake, I know, dear, but do _YOU_ have scales all over your human form? Do you have horns? Or, or _claws_? _Noooooo_. The Almighty was just being a _CUNT_.”

Crowley had to bite his lip to keep a surprised burst of laughter from slipping out. Aziraphale noticed and fixed him with a pout.

“It’s not _funny_ , Crowley! God is _awful_.” Aziraphale crossed his arms over his chest and continued to whine, “My perfectly manicured hands… Ruined! Even if I keep them rej– retch– re _tracted_ , I still know those awful things are there, underneath.” He huffed and shifted where he sat. “God’s just jealous that I love you more than Her. But when has _She_ ever shown me an _ounce_ of love?!”

Crowley nodded. “I know, angel, I know. To be clear, I wasn’t laughing at that. I’m laughing at _you,_ ” he said, his voice gentle and oozing fondness.

Aziraphale puffed out his lower lip, earning a chuckle from his husband.

“You’re– First of all, you’re about the cutest drunk I’ve ever seen,” Crowley said. He was about to continue when Aziraphale opened his mouth to say, “Oh, thank you,” with a smile. Crowley grinned and shook his head. “You’re welcome. Anyway, secondly, if your claws bother you so much, why don’t we just _trim_ them? File them down, so they’re not all jagged. Then it’d just be like having two sets of regular nails.”

Aziraphale sat quietly for a moment, blinking. Then, with his voice low, he mused, “You know, I’d– _hic_ –I’d never thought of that.”

Crowley smiled and shifted where he sat so that he could better face Aziraphale. “Right, give me your hands.” He snapped his fingers and produced a pair of nail clippers from his palm, along with a nail file. “M’not an expert, but since you can’t go out to your usual manicurist, I’ll have to do.”

“Oh, I trust you, dear,” Aziraphale said simply, then hiccuped, then giggled.

Crowley swallowed, trying his best to rein in just a _bit_ of the overwhelming love he felt for his husband before it rendered him useless. “Right. Good. Er, bring them out, then.”

“Bring what out?”

“The claws.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale pouted and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I really don’t like those things…”

Crowley didn’t bother trying to hide the fond smile that tugged at his lips. “That’s why we’re trimming them, yeah?” he said, as though speaking to a child. “Gotta get them out first, though.”

Aziraphale looked to him with pleading eyes. “Can’t you do it… _without_ my bringing them out?” His irises expanded into his scleras just a bit, and Crowley got the distinct notion that he’d made those black eyes bigger on purpose.

_Why, that manipulative little–_ Crowley shook his head and looked away with a barely-concealed chuckle. Aziraphale was still pouting at him when he looked back. _He really doesn’t want to get his claws out, does he?_ Crowley sighed. He _could_ just miracle them, he realized, but the miracling of Aziraphale’s demonic features never tended to last long. And, anyway, he deserved to be properly cared for. “Come on, Aziraphale. S’just for a bit, yeah? And then you won’t have to worry about them anymore. Not for a while, at least.”

Aziraphale fussed a bit, but brought his claws out nonetheless.

Crowley got to work with a focused frown, but not before bringing the claws to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to each of them in turn. Aziraphale managed to go even pinker than the alcohol had made him. He kept squirming where he sat as Crowley clipped at his claws, nearly getting one of his fingertips snipped in the process.

“I’m gonna mess up if you keep doing that,” Crowley said, his voice firm but gentle. “Will you just sober yourself and keep still?”

Aziraphale did. He shuddered when the alcohol left his system, then settled his gaze on Crowley with a smile. “Thank you for this, dear. I apologize for my, erm, rather emotional outbursts.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Crowley, continuing his work. “It was more endearing than anything else, anyway. D’y’know you called God a cunt?”

Aziraphale blushed and averted his gaze. “I… I do believe I did.”

“Wish I’d gotten that on camera, really.” Crowley set the nail clippers down, then realized he didn’t need them anymore and frowned at them until they disappeared entirely. He picked up the nail file and started shaping Aziraphale’s claws–which were looking much more like regular nails, though perhaps a bit thicker.

“Well, it won’t be happening again,” said Aziraphale with a tired sigh. “I’ve no desire to provoke Her.”

Crowley didn’t look up from his work as he said, “I don’t think She cares all that much about us anymore, angel.”

“Well, clearly She cared a great deal more about us than we might have thought.” Aziraphale let his scales come out, as if to make a point. Crowley thinned his lips when the hand he was holding broke out with scales at the edge of the palm. He looked up to meet Aziraphale’s sad gaze. Satisfied that his point had been made, Aziraphale brought the scales back in with an uncomfortable shiver. “I’d really rather not press our luck, as it were.”

Crowley wore a grim expression when he said, “I don’t blame you.”

“It’s not just me that I’m worried about, you know, it’s–” Aziraphale sucked in a breath and looked down. “I’m afraid of upsetting Her again. That She might… That She might _take_ you from– If, if I were to lose you, I couldn’t– I, I, I… I wouldn’t be able to go _on_ if–”

“That’s not going to happen, angel,” Crowley interrupted, lifting Aziraphale’s chin and fixing him with a serious stare. “There is nothing _anyone_ could do to keep me from you, got it? I swear. I’m not going anywhere, promise.”

Aziraphale sniffled. “That’s a rather hefty promise, dear.”

“Not to me. S’just a fact to me. No one’s taking you from me, or me from you. _Never_. Not going to happen. Yeah?”

Aziraphale drew in and released a shaky breath. “I do wish I shared your faith on the matter.”

“Not faith. Determination. Sheer willpower, alright? And I’ve got enough for both of us. _Nothing_ is separating us. Because there is no power in this Universe that can even come _close_ to my determination to be by your side.” Crowley breathed quietly for a moment, relieved as he watched Aziraphale calm down a bit. Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Aziraphale. I’m sorry that all this happened to you because of…,” he gulped, averting his gaze, “because of me. What I am.”

Aziraphale looked at him as though Crowley were a child who’d just entered the room crying about having a nightmare. “Oh, I don’t think it was that, dear,” said Aziraphale tenderly. “I think I’d have suffered the same result if you’d been an angel, or, or a human, I suppose.” He shook his head. “No, my punishment wasn’t for loving a demon. It was for placing you _above_ Her. For finally admitting to myself, and… and to Her, when it came to it, that… that you are the _most_ important part of my existence.” He pulled his hand out of Crowley’s grasp to place it on his cheek, prompting him to look up at him. “And, as I’ve said before, I would do it again, Crowley. You are _worth_ it. As far as I’m concerned, you’re worth the entire Universe. And so much more.”

Crowley huffed a disbelieving laugh, tears falling freely from wide yellow eyes as he shook his head. “Give me your stupid hand back,” he muttered, “I need to finish making it pretty.”

Aziraphale fixed him with a soft, understanding smile, and returned his hand to Crowley’s. “You’ve done quite well, so far,” he noted, and Crowley couldn’t have been more grateful for the subject change.

“No thanks to your squirming,” he said.

Aziraphale feigned offense. “I haven’t _squirmed_ since– I’ll have you know, I’m _completely_ sober, in case you didn’t notice!”

Crowley gave a teasingly unamused hum and smirked as he continued filing Aziraphale’s claws.

“You– Oh, the nerve of you. You know, I ought to have kept one of them as they were. Scratched you with it,” said Aziraphale, with absolutely no weight to the threat.

“Well, you know that would only have got me excited, so.” Crowley cackled when Aziraphale swatted his arm with his free hand. “Oi, I’m still working, here!”

“Aren’t you,” Aziraphale said through the fit of giggles he’d crumbled into, “aren’t you nearly done?”

“ _Nearly_ , yeah, but not yet! Quit _hitting_ me!”

Aziraphale laughed some more and dropped his head to Crowley’s shoulder.

Crowley breathed in the scent of him, then murmured in his ear, “As much as I love being so near to you, angel, I can’t see what I’m doing.”

Aziraphale let out a little whine of protest, but pulled back after turning his head to press a sweet kiss to Crowley’s neck. Crowley swallowed his desire and focused on his task. Every time he looked up, Aziraphale was staring at him with dreamy eyes and a wide smile.

“Right, that’s it, then,” Crowley announced finally, smiling down at his work. Then he looked to Aziraphale and asked, “You want any polish?”

“Oh! What a good idea,” said Aziraphale. He pursed his lips in thought. Then, “Just a clear one, if you please.”

Crowley produced a bottle of clear polish from nowhere and got to work. He took his time, moving the little brush in small, careful strokes down the length of Aziraphale’s short, smooth claws. He blew on them when he was finished, and sent the bottle of polish back into whatever obscurity he’d pulled it from. “Done.” Crowley grinned, looking from Aziraphale’s claws to his eyes as he declared, “Nailed it.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips at the pun, but let it slide, instead opting to look down and examine his manicure. “Oh, Crowley, you’ve– It’s lovely. I don’t know how we didn’t think to do this before.”

“Been a lot going on,” Crowley pointed out.

“Well, anyway. You’ve done a lovely job, taking something so horrid and making it beautiful. However will I make it up to you?” Aziraphale quirked his brows and allowed a coy smile to grace his lips.

Crowley pretended to be unamused as he said, “Why do I get the feeling you’ve already got an idea about that?”

Aziraphale glanced at him through his eyelashes before he stood and adjusted his clothes with a sigh. “You know, I’ve quite enjoyed wearing this ensemble,” he said, looking down at his suit, “but I do think it’s time you tore it off of me, piece by piece, wouldn’t you agree?” He leaned down and took Crowley’s tie in hand, pulling it toward him but not tugging enough to urge his husband out of his seat. “After all,” he drawled lowly, “we’ve yet to consummate our marriage, haven’t we?”

Crowley swallowed and licked his lips, then merely nodded in response.

Aziraphale smirked. “Well, then. Upstairs?”

Crowley was off the sofa and scrambling up the stairs before Aziraphale had even taken a step in that direction. He chuckled to himself, then calmly followed after his husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyyy, i've something of a complete outline for the rest of the fic! no telling when it'll actually get *done*, but at least we know how much is left to it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Aziraphale had hardly made it into the bedroom before Crowley was ripping his tailcoat off of him. “My, my,” he said. “Eager, are we, dear?”

Crowley merely grunted an affirming response and divested his husband of his outerwear, tossing it to the floor in several shredded pieces.

“Well, I see you took my suggestion to tear my clothes off quite literally, didn’t you?” Aziraphale smirked as Crowley began working his waistcoat off of him, which ended up torn to shreds, too. Aziraphale muttered, “No, no, it’s quite alright; I didn’t want to keep my wedding attire for sentimental reasons, anyway.”

“You’re not the sort,” Crowley said, not looking up from his task of unbuttoning his husband’s shirt.

“No, I’m not.” A smirk. “Though I do believe _you_ are.”

“I don’t need the whole ensemble,” said Crowley. “I’ll just keep the bowtie.” He loosened the accessory in question, just enough to slip Aziraphale’s shirt collar out from under it. With a hand on either side of him, he brushed the shirt off his husbands shoulders, then traced his fingers down Aziraphale’s suddenly bare arms. He slid one hand around Aziraphale’s back, clutching him closer, and moved the other hand to his neck. “You know what,” he said, grinning as he ran his fingers over the loosened bowtie, “I think I’ll have you leave this on.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale quirked a brow.

“Yup.” Crowley trailed his fingers down Aziraphale’s bare chest. “I hope you enjoyed being the composed one while it lasted, angel,” he said.

Aziraphale scoffed. “You say that as though you think I’ve lost my composure already!”

“Mm, not yet.” Crowley’s voice grew dark with determined lust as he popped the button of Aziraphale’s trousers. “But you won’t be maintaining it for long.”

Aziraphale felt his breath catch in his throat as he suddenly became desperate to be naked as quickly as possible. He backed up until the back of his knees reached the end of the bed, and allowed himself to fall back on the mattress. Crowley leaned over him and resumed working his trousers off of him. Aziraphale helped him along by kicking his shoes off, unintentionally sending one flying across the room. Crowley cocked a pointed brow at him, smirking, and all Aziraphale could manage in response was to blush.

“Not long at all, apparently,” Crowley mused.

“I’m– Oh, shut up and finish stripping me.”

“Gladly.”

Crowley tore the trousers and pants off of him in one go, and Aziraphale was quite certain a miracle had been involved. Still, it was impressive nonetheless. And it made him _unbearably_ wet. He gasped as his hands flew to Crowley’s back, still as fully clothed as when they’d exchanged vows hours earlier. He tugged at the fabric and gave a little whine.

Crowley chuckled. “You want me naked, too, angel?”

Aziraphale growled, “ _Yes_ , you– you _torturer_!”

Crowley pressed his knee between Aziraphale’s legs, encouraging his husband to rub up against him. “Fuck,” he hissed, “I can feel how wet you are through my trousers. And _hot_. _So_ hot.”

“Are,” Aziraphale struggled to say as he bucked his hips and rubbed and rubbed and _rubbed_ himself against Crowley’s leg, “are you– Are you losing composure, my dear?”

“A bit,” Crowley admitted. “But you’re so far gone, angel, you’ve really no room to talk.”

Aziraphale groaned, then halted his movements and glared up at his lover. “Then why don’t you put something in my mouth and shut me up?”

Crowley gulped, then popped the button of his own trousers. Aziraphale licked his lips in anticipation of watching his husband strip, but instead his eyes grew wide as he watched Crowley shove his hand in his pants and guide his cock out through the unfastened crotch of his trousers. “Think I want to fuck you like this,” he said, sounding a little distant–perhaps lost in those same waves of lust that Aziraphale found himself drowning in.

“Oh, please,” Aziraphale whimpered, “ _please_ do.”

“You did want something in your mouth, though, didn’t you?” Crowley smirked. “Who am I to deny my husband?” He climbed higher up the bed until his knees were on either side of Aziraphale, just below his shoulders, then positioned his cock gently against his soft mouth. Aziraphale let him in without hesitation, and groaned around the taste of him, his eyes rolling back and eyelids suddenly heavy. “Like that, do you?” Crowley teased, though it was clear he was fighting to remain composed.

“Mmmmm,” Aziraphale moaned around his length. He started sucking, just a little, just enough to prompt Crowley to start bucking into his mouth. Crowley caught himself and stilled his hips, mumbling something of an apology. Aziraphale rolled his eyes and reached up to grab the demon’s arse, urging him to fuck his mouth. He sucked harder and swirled his tongue around him as best he could.

“Fuck, fuck– _Fuck_ , angel, you’re gonna make me come before– Sssstop, I need– Stop.”

Aziraphale let go of Crowley as the demon shifted back, pulling his cock from his mouth. “Are you alright, dear?”

“Just–” Crowley sat back on Aziraphale’s thighs and brought a hand up to rub at the back of his own neck. “I just– I don’t want my first orgasm after, y’know, er… marrying you, to be, ah… I don’t want it to be like that. I want to come inside you.”

“My throat is rather _inside_ me, is it not?”

Crowley snorted. “You know what I mean, you bastard. I’m _trying_ to say I want– I don’t want to– I don’t want to fuck your mouth, angel, I want to… make… love.” Crowley shuddered at the words, looking away as he bit his lip.

Aziraphale blinked up at him a few times, then rolled his eyes. “Why must you be so _selectively_ sentimental?” he huffed, though there was no real irritation in his voice. “One moment you’re proudly telling me you’re in love with me, turning my shop into the most _romantic_ setting with roses all about, and the next you’re struggling to use the phrase ‘make love’.”

Crowley shrugged. “Demon thing.”

“Dear, _I’m_ a–” Aziraphale swallowed. “…I’m…I’m… Well, anyway, _I_ don’t have any problem voicing such things.”

“Sorry, have _you_ had millennia of being threatened with torture for showing anything even mildly resembling love?”

“Well, not– Not exactly, no.”

“No. Didn’t think so.” Crowley smiled softly, tracing Aziraphale’s cheek with his finger. “Give me a break, angel,” he said, his voice low. “I’m working on it.”

Aziraphale’s neutral expression melted into one of utter compassion. “Oh, my dear, I didn’t mean– I wasn’t really upset, you know.”

“I know,” Crowley said. “Just wanted to make sure you knew, y’know, why I– Why I’m like that, sometimes.”

“I understand, dearest.” Aziraphale fixed his husband with the sweetest, kindest smile–the kind that made his eyes sparkle, despite the darkness of his transformed irises. “Now then, would you be a… a _bad_ demon and make love to me?”

Crowley grinned. “I can do that, yeah. Bad’s my middle name.”

“Mm. Where exactly does the ‘J’ fit into that, then?”

“Right in the front,” Crowley said without missing a beat.

“Ah. Anthony Jbad Crowley. Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, does it?”

“The ‘J’s silent.”

Aziraphale dissolved into a little giggle fit at that. “Will you… Will you put your beautiful cock inside me, please?” he managed to say, his eyes squeezed shut as laughter continued to tumble out through those soft, pink lips.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful when you laugh, you know that?”

“Only when I laugh?” Aziraphale said, having finally gathered himself.

Crowley shook his head vehemently. “Always. _Always_ beautiful. The beautifullest.”

“Not a word, dear.” Aziraphale breathed a dreamy little sigh. “Now… Cock, please?”

Crowley huffed a laugh. “Right, sorry.” He looked down at his still-clothed body, then back up at Aziraphale. “Er, should I…?”

“Leave it on. I do quite like the idea of being the only one of us so… exposed.” Aziraphale’s voice had gone low as he expressed his desire, and he gave a little anticipatory wiggle where he lay.

“How did you get to be so kinky, angel?”

“Six thousand years of repression, I believe.”

Crowley grunted an agreement and lined himself up with Aziraphale’s pussy. “Well, thank Someone you’ve gotten over that,” he mused, sliding in casually.

Aziraphale moaned and nodded furiously. “Life really is so much better with a bit of cock in it.”

“That didn’t make much sense, angel.”

“Well, you’re fucking me silly.”

“Hardly moving, yet.”

“Mm, yes, would you do something about that, please?”

Crowley complied without another word. He rocked into him slowly, methodically, hissing slightly with each gentle thrust. After a few minutes, Aziraphale shifted under him.

“This is lovely, dear, but would you, erm… choke me?” Aziraphale hastily added, “Just a bit.”

Crowley stopped moving to gape down at Aziraphale. “ _Choke_ you? A _bit_?”

“Yes, hrm, just… not enough to be _too_ uncomfortable, of course, but…” Aziraphale miracled his sparkling red bowtie into the shape of a standard tie with a mere thought, then lifted the end of it toward Crowley. “Just give a little tug here and there, if you would.”

Crowley blinked down at Aziraphale, then at the tie in his hand, then back at Aziraphale. “I love you,” he blurted out. He leaned down to press sloppy, wet kisses to Aziraphale’s mouth and jaw. “You naughty, wondrously kinky thing. I _love_ you. Fuck, you’re a _delight_ , you know that?”

Aziraphale blushed and looked away, then looked back up at Crowley with big eyes. “Well, then?”

Crowley yanked on the tie in response.

“Mmmnh,” Aziraphale groaned. He nodded rapidly, looking up at Crowley through half-closed eyes. “ _Again_.”

_Yank_.

Aziraphale moaned and squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck,” he murmured. He opened his eyes to return Crowley’s heavy, awestruck stare. “Fuck– Make love to me, Crowley, please, dear, fuck me, fuck me, love me, please.”

Crowley complied with an eager thrust of his cock inside Aziraphale’s pussy. He continued to tug on the tie around his husband’s neck as he pulled back and slammed into him again and again. Aziraphale could do little more than whimper and moan and thrash about on the bed beneath his lover.

Amidst his excitement, he felt his scales ripple out.

Crowley eyed him carefully, pausing his movements. “Sorry, I– Do you want me to slow down?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Just let them be,” he breathed. “Or touch them. I don’t much care.” He shifted his hips up toward Crowley pointedly. Crowley got the message and resumed fucking into him, though a bit slower than before, as he was distracted by Aziraphale’s scales. He brought a gentle hand to them, caressing them for a moment. Then, keeping his eyes locked with Aziraphale’s, he ran his fingernails over the scales on his neck, scratching them lightly. Aziraphale groaned and closed his eyes. “That’s,” he breathed, “that’s good. Oh, keep doing that.”

Crowley did, and picked up the pace at which he was fucking him, while he was at it. It sent multiple jolts of pleasure through Aziraphale’s body as he reached up to grasp at Crowley’s back, miracling his husband’s clothes away with a thought. He wanted to touch _skin_. His newly trimmed claws emerged, and, given that they were far closer to actual nails, Aziraphale didn’t stop himself from clawing at his husband’s bare back. 

“Fuck, angel, that’s– Fuck. Harder.”

Aziraphale dug his claws in a bit deeper, but not quite enough to draw blood. He dragged them down the length of Crowley’s back and back up again. Over, and over, and over, as Crowley did the same to the scales on the sides of his arms. Eventually, Crowley’s hands made their way up to Aziraphale’s forehead, rubbing at the place where his horns would be. This coaxed them out from the plane they’d been banished to, and Aziraphale couldn’t be more pleased as he felt strong hands wrap around them and _tug_.

“Fuck, _fuck_! Crowley, I–” Aziraphale cut himself off with a gasping moan when Crowley hit a particularly nice spot inside of him at the same time he tugged his horns. “Mmph, I’m– Oh, I– I’m far too close.” He shook his head, then fixed Crowley with a stare that let him know he meant business. “ _Don’t_ let me come until you do.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Crowley hissed. “ _Fuck_. Yeah, okay.” He slowed his thrusts, angling himself to avoid pleasuring Aziraphale too much. But it was still so _good_.

“Put it in my mouth again,” he told him. At Crowley’s frown, he added, “I know, you want to come in my cunt. I want that, too, dearest, but just… fuck my mouth for a moment, so that I’m not so close. Then put it back inside of me when you’re about to finish.”

Crowley growled as he eagerly pulled out and did as he was told. After positioning his cock at Aziraphale’s eager lips and sliding between them, he gripped him by the horns and yanked, forcing his husband to take more of him in that sweet, hot mouth.

Aziraphale moaned loudly around Crowley’s cock and nodded, reaching up to wrap his hands around the ones on his horns. Crowley fucked his mouth, faster and faster, until his hips stilled and he pulled off like his tongue had burned him.

“Gonna come,” he said. “ _Fuck_ , m’gonna come, angel.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Inside me, quickly, I need– _Oh!_ Mmmmphh _yes_.”

Crowley had repositioned himself at Aziraphale’s entrance and pushed inside of him without another word, giving only a few short thrusts before spilling his seed in his husband’s pussy. “Fuck,” he groaned.

“Don’t stop,” Aziraphale told him. He brought Crowley’s hands back to his horns and urged him to tug on them as he fucked him through his orgasm. It wasn’t long before Aziraphale was coming, too, his cunt pulsing around the softening cock inside of him. “Mmmmmmloveyou. I love you, Crowley, I love you ssssso–”

He should’ve seen it coming, really. All the signs had been there. During his orgasm, the scales lining his sides had multiplied, and it’d become impossible to blink. But he’d been a bit caught up in the pleasure to take note of such changes, and so it took Aziraphale by surprise when he suddenly found himself to be a snake.

Crowley’s body loomed over his cursed form as he looked down at him with wide eyes. “You, uh– Alright, now, don’t panic. You’re alright. You’re still you. It’s okay.”

Thing was, in his post-orgasmic haze–and having just shifted form, which was always a bit disorienting–Aziraphale wasn’t feeling entirely like himself. All he knew was that a hand was getting far too close to his body, and he did _not_ want to be touched at the moment. So, he did what any threatened snake might do in his situation. He struck the offending creature’s neck with viperous speed, and sunk his fangs into flushed skin. There was a startled yelp, and then he tasted the sweat of the creature’s skin, and something metallic, something– _Blood_ , he realized, the fog in his mind beginning to clear. He was tasting his husband’s blood.

Just before he retracted his fangs in horror, he felt something rush out of them and into the wound on Crowley’s neck. He pulled away rapidly and slithered to the edge of the bed, coiling in on himself as he stared blankly at his husband. “ _No_.”

Crowley’s entire body tensed, his limbs locking up as he collapsed against the mattress. He landed mostly on his stomach, with one arm trapped uncomfortably under the bulk of his weight and the other coming to rest at his side. His face was turned toward Aziraphale’s side of the bed, and he blinked at him for a moment before groaning and letting his eyes drift closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coming up next: snanicking (snek panicking)


	12. Chapter 12

Aziraphale remained frozen in horror for a few seconds before bolting over to Crowley. His voice was small when he said, “Please, no, don’t be– Crowley!” He slithered over his husband’s back and peered at his face, tongue coming out pointlessly, as if he would be able to taste death.

“M’alive, angel,” Crowley said, his voice somewhat muffled due to his mouth being half-pressed into the sheets. “Just tired.”

Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief, but slithered off of Crowley to better face him and assess the damage he’d done. “Crowley, I– I need to know that my venom isssn’t like yours. Please, move, dear. I’m– _Please_ move!”

Crowley opened his eyes and looked back at him with a grim frown. It was almost pitying, which Aziraphale simply couldn’t wrap his head around at the moment– _he_ wasn’t the one who’d been bitten, what was _Crowley_ pitying _him_ for?! “Don’t think I can,” Crowley said, squeezing his eyes shut and giving a slight hiss before opening them again. “Paralyzed from the neck down,” he concluded. “S’alright, though,” he said quickly, his voice suddenly much lighter in tone, as though Aziraphale had merely stepped on his foot. “Don’t panic, angel, I’m fine.”

“I– I bit you! I poisoned you!”

“Angel, it’s okay, really,” Crowley strained to say. “Heh, I think I need a nap after that, anyway. Took a lot out of me, going at you like that. Was good.”

Aziraphale merely maneuvered himself around the bed, back and forth, as though he were pacing. 

“M’sorry, I can’t miracle you back,” Crowley told him. “Don’t think I can do much besides talk, right now.”

Aziraphale made a small, whimpering noise, and settled into the sheets, curling in on himself. He wanted so terribly to cry, but he couldn’t produce tears in his current form. “It’sss all my fault. We were making love, we were celebrating our marriage, and I, I _ruined_ it, like I always do. Like I’ve done sssince my fall. I keep– I, I keep–”

“Hey, stop that,” Crowley interrupted, his voice gentle but commanding. “You haven’t ruined anything. I love you, I _married_ you, you big dumb snake.” He winced. “Sorry, still too soon, I know. Just.” Crowley sighed. “Angel, for every thing you’ve done since falling, you’re the only one who’s gotten worked up about it. You’re putting the guilt on yourself. _I’m_ not upset. It’s _alright_ , Aziraphale, _really_ , it’s alright. The venom’ll wear off in a few hours, if it’s like mine, which it seems to be.” He offered his husband a reassuring smile. “S’not so bad, really. I’m not in any pain. I’m just, er, relaxing. You know. Taking a nap after some good–and I mean _really_ good–sex. Just give it a few hours. Why don’t you take a nap with me, angel, yeah? Sleep it off. We’ll be fine.”

“No, I– I can’t–” Aziraphale continued to panic, his sense of dread growing and growing until he could hardly speak. “I– There’ssss– No, no, no, no– C-can’t– I _hate_ thisss– Why–”

Soon enough, Aziraphale had worked himself up so much that he began to lose consciousness, his head going a bit fuzzy as he whimpered his continued apologies.

“Angel, calm down,” Crowley tried to tell him, his voice gentle and slow, but Aziraphale didn’t really register it. He coiled into a mess of scales and fell asleep in seconds.

* * *

It took 98 minutes for Crowley to be able to move again. As soon as he felt the sensation return, starting at his legs, and working its way up, he used all his might to push himself up and look down at his sleeping husband. With a lovingly sad smile, he reached out to smooth his fingers over the rough scales. “You’re beautiful, you know,” he whispered. “Beautiful, wonderful thing. Always. And I will love you for the rest of eternity, no matter what comes our way.” With that, he transformed into a snake, a tad larger than Aziraphale, and curled himself protectively around his little heap of a husband.

He woke several hours later to sunlight pouring in through the window and Aziraphale hissing apologies in his face, his little tongue darting out adorably as he spoke. Crowley wished he could grin in response, but knew it wouldn’t be received well, anyway. “I told you, angel, it’s alright.”

Aziraphale wouldn’t have it. “It’s _not!_ It’sss _not_ alright! I, I paralyzed you, I– You– Oh, f-fuck, are you a ssssnake because of me? Did I do that, too?! A-are you ssssstuck in thisss wretched form with me?”

“Well that’s a bit rude of you,” Crowley said, keeping his voice light to let Aziraphale know he wasn’t really upset. “I think I’m ssstunning in this form. We _both_ are.” He sighed, then rubbed the bulk of his body lovingly alongside Aziraphale’s and nuzzled his head. “And, no, I’m not stuck,” he said gently, “I’m just here to comfort you, that’s all. I knew you’d be upset waking up as a snake again and I didn’t want you to feel alone. Alright? Calm down, angel. I know it’s hard, but jussst, _try_ to calm down.”

Aziraphale shook his head more rapidly than a snake should be able to. “I can’t. I _can’t_ , Crowley, it’s– It’s too much. I can’t– I feel so _awful_ , I just–”

“Hey, what did I tell you? It’s alright. I’m not upset with you for biting me. I’ve _been_ where you are, remember? I was startled and I bit someone. But I didn’t _mean_ to, and I know you didn’t, either. You’re not used to this form, and you were already a bit out of it, what with the mind-blowing sex we’d just had, so, I get it. I’m not upset, but if you need me to forgive you, then I _forgive_ you, Aziraphale, I will _always_ forgive you, and I am _begging_ you to stop blaming yourself.”

“I… I can’t.”

Crowley sighed, “Angel…”

“I can’t, Crowley, I’m sssorry, I– I ought to have more control over myssself. I ought to have been able to _ssstop_.” Aziraphale’s voice was weak and remorseful as he continued, “I should be ssstronger than this. I shouldn’t be ssso sssusssceptible to those– those demonic tendencies. I should be better. I should be _better_ , Crowley, I shouldn’t have ever–”

“Okay, I’m going to stop you right there. I can’t even explain to you how ridiculous you sound right now, how utterly _wrong_ you are, and even if I could I know you wouldn’t listen. So, I’m going to distract you, instead, for the moment, with another lesson in shapeshifting. Let’s try unsnaking together, yeah? And _then_ we can have a chat about all the utter _shit_ that just came out of your beautiful mouth.”

“I’d rather not,” Aziraphale said, his voice more weak than curt.

“You’d rather stay a snake?”

Aziraphale looked up at him. “I deserve it.”

Well, that did it. Crowley shifted back into his usual shape and snapped Aziraphale into his own. “Right. Time for that chat.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks were wet in seconds as the tears were finally free to burst from his eyes. He held his own hand, squeezing the life out of it as he cried. “I don’t– Don’t you understand, Crowley? I _deserve_ to be a snake! She was right to curse me in such a way. I’m a treacherous, terrible thing. Ssssselfish and sssstupid,” he said, his tongue suddenly forked as it peaked out from behind wobbly lips, “I _deserve_ thissss.”

Crowley couldn’t help but smile excitedly as his husband slowly shifted back into his snake form. He wasn’t happy about what’d gotten him to _do_ it, but he was glad it’d happened of Aziraphale’s own accord; it meant he was one step (or, slither) closer to being able to shift at will.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Aziraphale asked, sounding entirely broken as he curled around himself and lowered his head to the sheets.

Crowley shook his head quickly. “I’m not– It’s not because of what you said, angel, believe me, that was– You’re _so_ wrong about that. All of it. You’re none of those things. You’re loyal and wonderful and kind and _so_ very clever,” said Crowley, lifting Aziraphale’s head with a single finger under his jaw. “I’m smiling because you shifted on your own.”

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, staring back at him blankly before he finally mumbled, “I didn’t mean to.”

“Maybe not, but you _did_ it. That’s more than you’ve been able to do so far. See if you can do it again, yeah?” Crowley ran a soothing finger down the keeled scales on Aziraphale’s back.

“I don’t think I want to.”

Crowley frowned. “Thought you didn’t like being in this form?”

“I don’t,” Aziraphale said pointedly.

Crowley’s jaw tightened reflexively. “ _Angel_ ,” he warned.

“Just… Leave me be, Crowley.”

Crowley couldn’t shake his head fast enough. “No, I’m not leaving you to wallow in senseless guilt for, for however long you intend to mope about this.”

“Well, there isn’t much you can do to sssstop me,” said Aziraphale resolutely.

“I can snap you out of it,” Crowley reminded him, raising a hand as if to do so right then. He waited. He was beginning to feel a bit odd about being able to control his husband’s form; it didn’t seem like an ability he ought to have.

“Please don’t. Please.”

With a sigh, Crowley dropped his hand to his lap and nodded. “Right. I’m going to snap you out of it in the other way, then. The, y’know, the metaphoric way.” He shot his husband a cheeky grin. “Gonna talk you right out of your bullshit.”

Aziraphale gave him a flat look. “Good luck, dear,” he said as he pulled his head away and nestled back into the sheets.

“You’re lovely, you know,” Crowley said, flinging himself back against the sheets to curl up around Aziraphale. He began stroking the top of his head with two fingers as he continued, “Not visually. I mean, _obviously_ visually, too, yeah, I’m not saying– Look, you’re lovely to look at, in _any_ form, and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise–and, yes, that includes you. Anyway, point is, you’re lovely in the, the inner sense, the–”

“Innocenssse?” Aziraphale asked, his head raised just a bit to look Crowley in the eye.

“No, _inner_ sense, the– Your heart’s lovely, s’what I’m trying to say.” Crowley frowned and cocked his head to the side as he mused aloud, “I mean, innocence, too, since you mentioned it. You’ve got a definite innocence about you.”

Aziraphale “tsk”ed and lowered his head back down.

“You are! You never– Look, I know innocence. Or I know the opposite of it, anyway. I know _un_ innocence. Er, whatever the opposite of innocence is called.”

“Corruption,” Aziraphale supplied, sounding tired and flat.

“Yeah, that. I know it when I see it. I’ve never seen it in you.”

“I betrayed Heaven,” Aziraphale said mournfully. “I chose a demon over the Lord, Herself! And I would do it _again_ , Crowley,” he continued, his tone growing distressed. “I don’t– I don’t regret it, not at all. I ssstill feel it was the right thing to do. _I_ feel it was perfectly accsssseptable. But it wasn’t, it _isn’t_ , and _that_ is why I am corrupt, whether or not I agree with my actions being consssidered as sssuch. It isn’t for me to _decide_! I am corrupt in the eyes of God–our very _Creator_.”

“Then the student’s outdone the teacher, or whatever. Who cares?”

“ _I_ do!”

“Why?! Why, after She’s proven Herself to be a– a– an unfit Mother! I– You said you disagree with Her, so why in the name of the Antichrist do you care about what you are in the eyes of our cursed ‘Creator’?!”

Aziraphale shifted out of his snake form and into his usual body quite quickly to wail, “Because I just want to be _loved_ , Crowley!” He curled in on himself in the middle of the bed and sobbed.

Crowley sat in stunned silence. “You are,” he said after a moment, as softly as he could. “You _are_ , angel, you are.” He reached out to card his fingers through fluffy blonde hair.

Aziraphale sniffled and gathered himself, sitting up as he wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Oh, my dear, I– I know _you_ love me,” he said, taking Crowley’s hand from his hair to hold it in his own. “It’s just that…”

“M’not enough.” Crowley nodded, turning his face away and willing himself not to tear up in sympathy. “I get it. You lost the love of God– It’s– It hurts, I know, I remember. I still feel it sometimes. The horrifying lack of it. The emptiness.”

“It isn’t– It isn’t that you’re not _enough_ , Crowley. Not at all. It’s that I can’t seem to handle Her rejection. For so long, for my entire _existence_ , I had Her love to… to earn. And I thought I was doing quite alright with it. I wasn’t a perfect angel, of course, but I– I thought I was worth something, to Her. A-and it’s only recently that I’ve realized that I– I’m not enough. I’ll never be enough; I _can’t_ be, I– I’m entirely incapable of being the angel She meant me to be.”

“…You shouldn’t have to _earn_ love, Aziraphale.”

“I… I’m learning that. You’ve shown me that, time and again. Over, and over, no matter how much I mess it all up.”

Crowley gave him a disapproving look.

“I know, I know,” Aziraphale sighed, “you don’t agree. You don’t have to say it again.”

“Apparently I do.”

Aziraphale looked away. Crowley put a hand on his shoulder, urging him to meet his gaze. “You aren’t messing anything up. And there’s nothing, and I mean _nothing_ , Aziraphale, that you can ever do to un-earn my love, because you never had to earn it in the first place. That’s not how it works.”

Aziraphale remained silent, but returned Crowley’s gentle gaze with one of his own.

“Congratulations, by the way.” At Aziraphale’s confused frown, Crowley elaborated, “You shifted by yourself. I think it’s safe to assume you can go in and out of snake form whenever you want, now.”

Aziraphale huffed. “As though I would ever want to assume that form on _purpose_.”

Crowley shrugged. “S’nice to have options.”

“Hmph. Maybe for you. I was quite content to have been my usual self for… Well, forever. And now…”

“I know.” Crowley put one hand over Aziraphale’s own and used the other to rub his husband’s cheek with his thumb. “I know.” He let his hand roam from Aziraphale’s face over his shoulder and down his back. “Will you get your wings out for me?”

Aziraphale furrowed his brows. “They’re… not what they used to be.”

“No, but they’re still yours. I want to groom them for you, if you’ll let me.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale practically whimpered in response, “you can’t just– I ought to be tending to _you_ , not– I _bit_ you!”

Crowley gave a low hum of agreement. “I remember, I was there.”

“I’m in _no_ mood to joke about it,” Aziraphale pouted, folding his arms over his chest and turning his head from Crowley.

“I know, I apologize, alright, I– That’s why I want you to get your wings out,” Crowley said, rubbing his husband’s back gently, between the shoulder blades. “Want to help you relax.”

“I don’t deserve to relax,” Aziraphale mumbled.

Crowley let out a little frustrated growl, then said, “Fine, that’s it. You can take it as a punishment, then, if that’s what you think you need. I’m _ordering_ you to get your wings out. Now, do as you’re told.”

Aziraphale shot him an unimpressed look, but allowed his wings to manifest nonetheless, with an involuntary sigh.

The ash-laden feathers were in disarray, the chaos becoming more and more apparent towards the outer tip of each wing. The end of the left wing was bent in a way that made Crowley’s shoulder twitch in empathy. Was it… broken? Had it been all this time? It was a small injury, sure, and with one’s wings tucked away, the feeling of them was always a bit dulled, but Crowley was shocked that it hadn’t come up before, or that he hadn’t noticed it when he’d had the chance to see his husband’s wings several days prior.

“Oh, angel…”

Aziraphale kept his eyes averted to his lap. “I know. They’re just awful, aren’t they? Shameful, wretched things.”

“Shut it, they’re perfect, they just– Have you touched them at _all_ since…?”

Aziraphale swallowed and winced up at Crowley ashamedly. “No. They’ve been a bit neglected, truthfully.”

“Well, good thing I’m here, then.” Crowley stood, approaching the injured tip of his husband’s wing, and reached a hand out to heal it. Aziraphale closed his eyes, an expression of peace on his face, as Crowley finally touched the healed wing, trailing his fingers over the ashy feathers so gently he could hardly even feel them under his skin. He dug in, then, letting his touch go deeper through Aziraphale’s left wing.

“Mmm.”

Crowley couldn’t help the bright, adoring smile that crept onto his face. “Feel good?”

“Mm, yes.”

“Good. Just keep your eyes closed, relax, and I’ll smooth those gorgeous feathers right out, yeah?”

Aziraphale hummed in appreciation, sounding a bit lost in the feeling when he said, “Alright.”

Crowley continued smoothing through his husband’s wing until he was covered in ash up to his forearms. He pulled his arms back to himself and frowned down at them.

Aziraphale gave a slight whimper at the loss of contact, then Crowley heard an embarrassed, “Oh.”

He blinked up at Aziraphale and shook his head. “S’fine, just… Could use a good wash.”

Aziraphale nodded, blush spreading from his cheeks down to his chest. “I truly didn’t realize the shape they were in. I apologize, dear.”

Crowley waved a dismissive hand and turned toward the bathroom. “No need to apologize, angel. I’m going to draw you a bath,” he said over his shoulder. “Think you can tuck your wings in enough to fit in the tub?”

“Likely not.”

“Well, we’ll try it, and if we have to miracle a bigger space to accommodate, then, I’ll take care of it.”

“Crowley, this is all a bit ridiculous,” said Aziraphale, having followed him into the bathroom. Crowley turned to see him standing behind him hesitantly, holding his own hand in that trademark Aziraphale Brand of Anxiety.

“Your wings are literally covered in ash, angel. It’s been days.”

“Nearly a fortnight,” Aziraphale noted with a suddenly somber nod.

“Right, well, my point exactly. Let me clean them for you. I’ll get them bright and shining, ’n then I’ll give you a good back massage.”

“Really, Crowley, there’s no need–”

“I want to. I _want_ to, Aziraphale, for– Will you let me have the honor of caring for my husband? Do I have to beg for it?”

“I–” Aziraphale sighed in defeat. “Fine. But then you have to let me do something for you. I simply cannot allow you to continue rewarding me without my having earned it.”

Crowley fixed him with a disapproving stare, but said, “Deal. But only because I’m too eager to take care of you to waste any more time arguing over how much I wish you’d just _let me do that_. You don’t have to _earn_ anything from me, angel. I’m not God.”

Aziraphale remained quiet as Crowley drew the bath. It filled miraculously quick, as though the tub itself couldn’t stand the awkward silence between the two demons.

“Right,” announced Crowley, “it’s ready.” He took his husband gently by the elbow and led him to the edge of the tub. It was clear that his wings would most definitely _not_ fit, and so the tub grew to a little more that twice its size. “Get in, angel,” said Crowley, pulling up a stool that hadn’t existed a second ago behind the enlarged tub.

Aziraphale complied, having apparently given up his protests to being cared for.

“There we go, good, slide right in there. Warm enough for you?”

Aziraphale released a slow sigh and nodded, his eyes closing of their own accord.

“Not too hot?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “It’s lovely, dear. Just right.”

Crowley smiled. “Good. Now, I’m not going to get in with you, I’ll just sit back here and wash you, yeah?”

“Alright.”

Crowley made a snap decision to simply miracle the ash out of the wings; he didn’t want to risk missing anything, and the bathwater would paint Aziraphale grey if he actually rinsed them in it. But he still wanted to smooth his hands through the feathers, and if Aziraphale had noticed the miraculous cleanse, he didn’t acknowledge it. So, Crowley dipped his hands in the tub and began to gently rustle the feathers back into place. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said after a while.

Crowley leaned forward from where he was seated on a stool behind the tub and pressed a kiss to the middle of his husband’s back, right between his shoulder blades. “Love you,” he murmured between kisses up to his neck. “I love you, angel, _fuck_ I love you so much I can hardly contain it sometimes. Feels like I’m going to burst.”

“I… I feel much the same.” Aziraphale sounded as though he was crying, which prompted Crowley to pull back and come to Aziraphale’s side. “Oh, don’t mind me, dear,” he said with a light chuckle as he sniffled his way through his words. “It’s just– I’ve never had anyone else touch my wings, you know, and you’ve been so– So gentle with me. Through _all_ of this, Crowley, you’ve been nothing but gentle and, and kind, and I– I’m so grateful. I apologize, I– No, don’t look at me that way, I need to say this, I– I feel as though I haven’t let you know just how much I appreciate all that you’ve done for me. Before, and, and especially now, and– You love me so well, Crowley, you– I love you, I love you, please kiss me, dear, I– I’m feeling a bit soft today, I’m afraid.”

Crowley leaned over and kissed him, putting a hand on either side of that precious face. “Like you soft,” he said against his lips. “I like you _always_.”

They kissed for a bit, Crowley softly stroking Aziraphale’s wings as they breathed love into each other. Soon enough ( _too_ soon, in Crowley’s mind), Aziraphale pulled back with a smile. “I think I’m in danger of shriveling up like a raisin, dearest. I’ve been in here a while.”

“S’hardly been ten minutes,” Crowley said, but he allowed the tub to begin draining, anyway. “You just want that massage, don’t you?”

“I admit I am rather eager for more of your touch. Your hands truly do seem to work miracles on this old body of mine.” Aziraphale was quick to add, “Don’t you smirk at me, you childish demon!”

“As if you didn’t word it that way on purpose,” Crowley teased. “Come on, out of the bath. Let’s get you dried off and settled on the bed.”

Crowley decided that the best way to go about giving his winged lover a back massage would be to have him lie on his belly and spread his wings to make room for Crowley to straddle his legs. But Crowley wasn’t really interested in doing things the most logical way. So, he had Aziraphale kneel on the bed, wings spread, and Crowley kneeled behind him. All this, so that he could more easily crane his neck over his husband’s shoulder and adorn him with kisses.

“Mm,” Aziraphale moaned after just a few seconds of this treatment. Crowley smiled against the back of his right shoulder and continued kneading out the tension in Aziraphale’s back with his thumbs. “I’m– _oh_ –I’m beginning to think you had ulterior motives for this ‘massage’, dear.”

“Mm,” Crowley hummed in agreement, pressing another open-mouthed kiss to his husband’s skin, still warm from the bath. “Wanted to worship you. Run my hands over every inch of this precious flesh that houses you and make you feel good.”

“I–You don’t hav–”

Crowley gave Aziraphale’s neck a little nip, a silent command not to finish that sentence. He licked the reddened skin and pressed a soft kiss to it, still applying just the right amounts of pressure to the right spots on Aziraphale’s back, focusing on the area around where his wings emerged.

Aziraphale moaned.

Crowley chuckled. “S’got you feeling a bit erotic, too, then, hm?”

“A bit.”

Crowley slid his hands down and over Aziraphale’s hips, fingers dancing playfully over the soft skin there, then slid them back up between his wings.

“Don’t tease me, Crowley.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, love, I was planning on following through.”

“I– It’s too dangerous.”

“Angel.”

“I’m afraid I’ll bite you again.”

“You won’t.”

“You can’t guarantee that, Crowley. You can’t be certain that I won’t lose control when it all,” Aziraphale gestured vaguely, “ _crests_.”

“Yes, I can, because this is going to be about you. I won’t be distracted by my own pleasure; I’ll be able to keep an eye on you and slow down or stop if it seems like you’re losing control. Which you _won’t_. I’m sure of it. But, for _your_ peace of mind… Let me tend to you, angel. Let me help you relax, yeah?”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t trust myself. And I wish I could say it was enough that _you_ trust me, but I– I’m afraid it isn’t, dear, I’m sorry.”

“Well, what if we tried something different, yeah? Try, er… Switching.”

Aziraphale scrunched up his face to betray his lack of understanding.

“The fun bits, angel,” said Crowley, running his hands back over Aziraphale’s front, dipping down between his legs briefly before sliding back up to his arms, “swap ‘em out. I mean, unless you don’t want to. Preferences, and all. I just thought, if you tried it another way…”

“I don’t see what having a cock would do to lessen the intensity of my orgasm,” said Aziraphale skeptically. “If anything at all, I would think it would only make things worse, being a new and exciting experience and all.” He bit his lip, a clear hitch in his breath as a blush rose to his cheeks.

“It’s not that, it’s– I wanna be able to go slower with you, and it’ll be easier for me to tell if you’re getting too close if I’ve got your cock in my hand. Better control, on my end.”

Aziraphale turned his head to give Crowley an uncertain look. “Slower?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, when you think of it, we always get so, er… You know, rough. Wild. Passionate.”

“Your point?”

“My _point_ , is that I wanna try pleasing you slowly, without getting too worked up. I want you to tip over that edge gently, not, you know, rushing off it like we usually do. And I want you to know that you deserve it. I want you to understand how gently you deserve to be handled. How precious a thing you are.”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “I don’t know…”

“I’m not forcing you to do anything, angel, I just thought– I dunno, I thought it’d be nice for you to be able to be taken care of, without worrying about anything else, just, y’know, getting serviced.”

“That doesn’t sound like much fun for you.”

“Oh, believe me,” said Crowley, his voice low, “it _would_ be.”

“Well, I suppose it would be terribly rude of me to deny my husband of his desires,” Aziraphale said. It came out lighthearted, but Crowley felt something deeper behind the teasing words.

“You can deny me anything, anytime, if it’s not something you want,” he told him. “Just don’t deny _yourself_ anything. If you want it, and I’m offering it, then– Angel, you’ve got nothing to lose.”

“Only my sense of control, and quite possibly the love of my life. If I were to harm you in any way–”

“Which you won’t–”

“–I wouldn’t be able to cope.” Aziraphale dropped his head, his lips in a little pout, his wings drooping as if to complete the body-wide frown. It was clear that he _wanted;_ Crowley had felt a wave of desire burst from him when it’d been suggested that he try a cock. How Aziraphale _loved_ finding new ways to experience pleasure. He was just scared, unable to trust himself enough to follow that desire. It broke Crowley’s heart. He sent up a mental string of curses to the Almighty for giving his husband a complex.

Crowley got up and moved to sit in front of Aziraphale on the bed. “Angel, we will go so mind-numbingly slow, I promise, you won’t have the chance to lose control of yourself. You’ll be fine. I _swear_ it.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the damp curls on Aziraphale’s forehead. “I can taste your desire, love. And now that I’m seated in front of you I can see how dripping wet you are,” he noted, a cheeky grin making a brief appearance on his face. Then he reached out to soothe a hand through Aziraphale’s hair. “I can feel your fear, too. Let me ease you out of it. Just trust me, Aziraphale. You dear, sweet angel… No harm will come to you. _Or_ me,” he added before Aziraphale could open his mouth to interject. “No harm will come to us, angel. I swear it. Trust me. Until you can trust yourself, just trust _me_.” He slid his hand down to rest on his husband’s cheek, fixing him with a sincere stare. “Unless I’m misreading this. Are you not as eager as I am? Because if you’re genuinely uncertain about trying this, Aziraphale, I don’t want it, either. It just seemed like you really wanted to try having a cock, and I hate to see you deny yourself anything.”

“I… I do… I do, I just– I’m afraid.”

“I know. I know, sweetheart. We can wait, if you’re not up to it, yet. It’s still so soon after that little love bite you gave me,” he said, a twinkle in his eye in effort to ease Aziraphale’s guilt about the whole incident. “If you need some time to–”

“No.”

Crowley blinked. “Oh. Well, good, th–”

“I don’t want to wait. Because if I do, then I know it will only become more and more intimidating, the longer I avoid it. No, no. Best thing to do after falling off a bicycle is to get right back on it, isn’t it?”

“Er, well, yeah, guess so, ‘less you need to tend to a wound or something, but, I mean, after that, y’know, y–”

Aziraphale silenced him with a finger to his lips. He then took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and reached down towards his clit. Crowley watched in reverence as his husband’s sex grew before his eyes, until a cute, thick cock was laying heavy in his hand. He opened his eyes and looked to Crowley uncertainly. 

“Beautiful, angel,” was all he could bring himself to say.

“Really?”

“Stunning. Can’t wait to worship it.” Crowley reached out a hand, then pulled it back and looked to Aziraphale with questioning brows.

“Please. Please touch me.”

Crowley smiled, then hesitated. “Er, how do you want– Do you want to lie down, or…?”

“That, ah, might be a bit uncomfortable on the wings, I think. I’d like to keep them out a bit longer, if you don’t mind. It’s so nice to stretch them.”

“I don’t mind. Don’t mind at _all_. Er… You could… I could kneel behind you again, reach around to stroke you that way. Pretty sure I’m gonna end up wanting to put my mouth on it, though. S’too pretty not to have a taste.”

Aziraphale gulped. “Oh, that– Y-yes, that would, er, be acceptable, I suppose.”

“I could just– Here, let me–” Crowley sat on the bed, spreading his legs as wide as he could, then pat the space between them. “Here, sit here. Spread your legs around me, like I am, and just– Yeah, that. Perfect. Comfortable?”

Aziraphale settled in his lap, facing him with a miraculous twinkle in his pitch-black eyes. “Perfectly. I’ve got the most wonderful view, you know. Those wonderful eyes of yours.”

“Could say the same of you.”

“I… Thank you.”

Crowley beamed, then finally, _finally_ , reached for Aziraphale’s cock. It was so soft. Well, the skin was, anyway. It’d grown erect almost as soon as it’d been manifested by its owner. Aziraphale sucked in a breath, closing his eyes slowly, not squeezing them shut, just allowing all the muscles in his face to relax as Crowley handled him. “Good?” asked Crowley, just barely moving his fist up and down. He’d miracled a bit of lube into his palm, slicking up the way as he stroked him slowly, gently, adoringly.

Aziraphale nodded, licking his lips. “S-so good. So very good.”

“Mm. Good.” Crowley pressed a kiss to the space where Aziraphale’s neck met his shoulder, continuing to stroke him. A few minutes went by, Aziraphale’s breath growing deeper, interspersed with little sighs and mindless moans. Crowley drank up every moment of it. There was no sight more beautiful than his husband slowly coming undone, no sound more wonderful than the ones he made as his pleasure built.

After a while, Aziraphale began to rut into Crowley’s hand as much as their positioning would allow. “Mmh– I– F-faster. Please.”

Crowley clucked his tongue, shaking his head. “We had an agreement, and I’m sticking to it. We’re going slow this time.” He put a hand on Aziraphale’s waist to hold him still. “Just feel through it. Don’t worry about getting anywhere; I’ll make certain that you get where you need to be. I won’t leave you unsatisfied, angel.”

A small whimper died in Aziraphale’s throat when Crowley leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth.

“Now… Since you’re properly worked up and dripping from the sweet, reddened tip of you… Can I taste you, angel? Will you let me put my mouth on this pretty new cock? D’you think you can handle that?”

“ _Yes,_ ” said Aziraphale, nodding so quickly it elicited a laugh from Crowley. “Yes, please, yes. Please.”

“Thank you.” Crowley scooted back, repositioning himself so that he could easily take him into his mouth. And he did. And it was _perfect_. Having never had a cock in his mouth before, he had nothing to compare it to, but he quickly decided he didn’t want to compare it to anything, anyway. It was in its own league. He hummed happily around the length and gave a few light sucks. Aziraphale was groaning lowly and had his fist in Crowley’s hair, which encouraged him but also reminded him not to get his husband too excited. He released his cock from his mouth in favor of pressing gentle, sweet kisses from the base to the tip, followed by licking around the length.

Aziraphale’s breathing grew labored, and he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open. After a little while, he tugged on Crowley’s hair gently. “I… I’m close.”

“Yeah?” Crowley asked with a big dumb smile on his face. He pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s thigh without dropping his gaze. “M’gonna finish you by hand. More control that way, and I’d really like to feel your perfect little cock throbbing in my palm when you come.”

Aziraphale moaned and nodded quickly. “Plea– Please, yes. Please.”

Crowley took him in hand, but not without saying, “I do fully plan on having you come down my throat someday, though, to be clear.”

“Mmmmph, yes, that would be,” a sigh as Crowley smeared the tip of Aziraphale’s leaking cock with his thumb, “that would be lovely.”

It wasn’t long before Aziraphale’s breath started to become erratic again, prompting Crowley to slow his movements. “Shhh, angel,” he said sweetly, “breathe. Deep breaths, yeah?”

Aziraphale whimpered, nodding as he tried to steady his breath. His hands were in fists at his sides, and he kept looking down at them with a creased brow.

“Stop thinking about your claws, angel,” Crowley soothed. “We’ve trimmed them, remember?”

Aziraphale answered with his eyes squeezed shut, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists even tighter. “It–It’s not that, it’s… I… I want to wrap my hands around your neck. I want to scratch at your back, a-and pull your hair and, and, Crowley I– I’m afraid I’m rather rubbish at taking things slow when it comes to all this.”

Crowley could’ve laughed aloud at the irony. Millennia of taking it slow for his angel’s sake, only to have the tables turned on him the moment Aziraphale had first got him naked. He supposed it figured; all those years of waiting, of holding back must have been hard on Aziraphale, too. It must be overwhelming to suddenly be able to act on all that repressed passion, Crowley thought. Instead of giving a chuckle at his husband’s words, Crowley elected to lean forward and press a kiss to both of his temples in turn. Then, he lifted his free hand and placed it on the back of Aziraphale’s neck, guiding him to lean forward and rest his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “Deep breaths,” he told him. “I’m going to make you come, and you’re going to be fine, right? I promise.”

Aziraphale whimpered as Crowley resumed stroking his cock and began rubbing over his shoulder, too. He even let his fingers venture into the shiny black feathers that surrounded him, massaging Aziraphale’s wing as he gave his cock a few light squeezes.

“Doing so well for me, angel,” Crowley murmured against Aziraphale’s ear. “So well-behaved. So meek and mild. What a precious and delicate thing you are. So glad to have you like this.”

Crowley let his fingers trail up Aziraphale’s wing, over to the top of his head to comb through his hair.

“So pretty. So, so pretty. Sweet. Just absolutely lovely, you are.”

He continued to whisper sweet nothings into his husband’s ear until Aziraphale started mouthing at his neck, nipping his skin a couple times between little mewls of increasing pleasure.

“That’s it,” Crowley cooed, petting Aziraphale’s hair as he began stroking him just a little bit faster. “Come for me, angel. Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

Aziraphale climaxed with a whimper, coming over Crowley’s hand and between their bodies, clinging to him gently as he rode out his orgasm. His wings flapped a few times behind them. It was a light movement, but the weight of his wingspan did cause him to lose balance a bit. Aziraphale gave into the teetering and allowed himself to fall back on the mattress, and Crowley gave a light chuckle as he followed Aziraphale, coming to rest atop his chest. Crowley miracled Aziraphale’s release off the both of them with a thought, and they breathed together for a few moments before Crowley thought to ask if Aziraphale’s wings were hurting him.

“It’s not nearly as uncomfortable as I’d thought it would be,” Aziraphale replied.

“Good.”

“Still, I suppose I should bring them in.”

“Whatever you’d like, angel.” Crowley reached a lazy hand out to lovingly brush through his husband’s wing one last time before he tucked them away. They lay like that for a while, Crowley’s head resting comfortably on Aziraphale’s chest, before he tilted his head to look up at him. “So… How was it?”

Aziraphale sounded near-sleep when he breathed the question, “How was what?”

Crowley chuckled, then pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s collarbone. “Having a cock,” he said against warm, blushed skin. “And taking it slow. How did it feel when you came?”

“Oh, that,” Aziraphale sighed dreamily, bringing an arm up to rub at Crowley’s back. “It was lovely, my dear. Exactly what I needed, I think.” He brought a hand to Crowley’s chin, prompting him to raise his head and meet his sincere gaze. “Thank you, Crowley. You care for me so well. Your tenderness, your _love_ , it’s– Well, it’s everything I always thought I needed but never knew I’d get to have, in this capacity, and I… I’m grateful beyond words for it, really.”

Crowley flushed and choked on a few sounds before mumbling a, “Good. Good, that’s– Good. Er… You’re welcome?”

Aziraphale smiled brightly. “Yes.”

Crowley couldn’t help but return the smile. “And, hey, look at that.”

“What?” asked Aziraphale, brows furrowing.

“Perfectly normal teeth. Not a fang in sight.”

Aziraphale beamed.

“Ahck, beautiful. Blinding me, angel. Like looking into the sun.” Crowley put on a show of pulling away from him, covering his eyes with his arm as he rolled onto his back.

“Oh, you,” Aziraphale laughed lightly, and Crowley felt the bed give as Aziraphale rolled onto his side to be nearer to him. “Stop it.”

“Mm. Can’t. S’reflexive. Can’t help it. You turn me to mush.” Crowley uncovered his face, but blew out a put-upon sigh. “It’s ridiculous, you know. Demon like me. Wrapped around your little finger. Not fair.”

“Well, you were always a rather terrible demon, anyway,” Aziraphale teased.

Crowley shot him a cock-browed glare that was entirely insincere. Then he smiled, chuckled, and looked away.

“Don’t you do that,” said Aziraphale, putting a hand on Crowley’s face to turn it back toward him. “You ought to be kissing me right now, you know.”

“Oughtn’t I?” Crowley asked, brows raised in mock innocence. “Why’s that, angel?”

“Because I’d like to be kissed. And because you like to kiss me.”

“Ah, that how it works, then?”

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale said lowly, giving a short nod. “That is precisely how it works.”

Crowley leaned towards Aziraphale until his breath was ghosting over his lips. “And what if I…,” he pulled back, “don’t kiss you? What if I withheld my kisses?”

“Then I shall pout until you do. And we both know how much more you want to kiss me when my lips are in a pout.”

“Do we?”

They did. Crowley _especially_. That mouth was _made_ to be kissed, he was certain of it, and the slightest protrusion of those sweet, perfect lips only served to make him wild with need to press his own to them.

Aziraphale gave a slight pout in response, a challenging sparkle in his dark eyes, and Crowley couldn’t help but close the gap between them as he claimed his husband’s mouth.

“Well,” said Aziraphale, catching his breath several minutes later. “Per our agreement, I believe it’s _my_ turn. To do something kind for you, that is.”

“Is it, now?”

“Mm.” Aziraphale took a deep breath, then sat up, setting his hands on his thighs with a light _smack_ as he looked down at him. “Now, how might you feel about being penetrated, dear?”

Crowley beamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the _fade to black_ ending there but y'all are just going to have to imagine crowley's first time gettin' absolutely plowed by aziraphale. the next chapter will take place a month later. (:


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is... _so_ much kinky sex in this chapter, I don't even– I'm gonna put a content notice. 'Cause this chapter kinda got away from me and decided to be way, way sluttier than I'd intended.
> 
>  **Content Notice (spoilers for most of the chapter):**  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> Aziraphale's fantasy about using his fangs to bite and thus paralyze Crowley during sex (skip Aziraphale's examination of his fangs near the beginning of the fic if that's a no-no for you),  
> Shifting in and out of snake-form at will (this happens throughout, kinda unavoidable),  
> Masturbation in the bath alongside praise kink (followed by cumming in the bath) – just skip the whole bath scene if that's not your jam, aaaand,,  
> (Mutually enthusiastic, consensual) sex with snake-form Crowley. Yeah, I finally went there. It was a matter of time. It involves Crowley putting his tail in Aziraphale's cunt. Crowley's own snenitals (snek genitals) are never mentioned. If you want to skip that scene, stop after the paragraph that starts with, "Well, that was the last straw." Pick back up at, "Crowley reassumed his naked human form and wrapped Aziraphale up in his arms . . ."
> 
> Alright, I... I _think_ that's everything. Good Lord.

** ONE MONTH LATER **

Crowley had popped over to his flat to check up on his plants and grab a few things, since it seemed that he’d be spending the rest of the pandemic at the shop, but not before asking Aziraphale several times if he was okay with being left alone. In truth, Aziraphale was relieved to have a moment to himself. Not that he was tired of his husband’s company–not at all. But he’d been wanting to do a bit of, er, self-assessment, and he didn’t feel he could do that without Crowley breathing compliments down his neck. He needed the space to examine himself alone.

And so, there he stood, in front of the body-length mirror in the corner of his bedroom. 

He was clothed, finally. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the fond memory of having spent the first few weeks after his fall nude for much of the time. Well, it wasn’t entirely fond. There’d been a great deal of pain, too. Plenty of curling into a naked ball of agony. He quite hoped those days were over. He stared down at the ring on his hand, a bright smile winning out over his briefly-held somber expression.

With a deep breath and a shake of the head to prepare himself, Aziraphale relaxed his control of his corporation, allowing its demonic features to come out for observation and evaluation.

He looked himself in those entirely pitch-black eyes and found that he couldn’t hold his own gaze for very long.

_Right, then. Not quite there, yet._

He sighed, closing his eyes for a few steadying breaths before he looked back at his reflection. This time he focused on his mouth. Or, what was inside it, rather. He opened his mouth, examining the fangs that had once terrified him so. He wasn’t overly fond of them by any means, but he’d certainly grown much more confident in his ability to control himself and his form. He was even quite certain that he would be able to give his husband a little bite or two without injecting his paralyzing venom. Of course, he wouldn’t dare to do such a thing, venom or no. It… It wouldn’t be appropriate, would it? It made him think of when he actually _had_ bitten Crowley, leaving him paralyzed for hours. He certainly… _certainly_ wouldn’t want to do something like that again.

…Only, it had been a surprise, that time. An accident. Entirely non-consensual, which was what had _really_ bothered him. But if Crowley were to… were to _agree_ to such a thing… To be bitten… _Paralyzed_ , even, perhaps…

Aziraphale swallowed thickly and adjusted his bowtie as he thought of Crowley frozen beneath him. He’d… He’d be entirely helpless as Aziraphale pleasured him. Aziraphale couldn’t help but moan as he thought of his husband moaning and whimpering, desperate to touch him back but unable to move. Forced to simply lie there and be brought to orgasm. Or… or to be used, to be ridden as Aziraphale sought pleasure for _himself_. Either scenario. Perhaps both? One after the other? Aziraphale breathed a small gasp at the realization that he quite _liked_ that idea, and reflexively drew his fangs back out of shame.

_Absolutely_ none _of that, thank you._

“Now…,” he said, voice a bit shaky as he tried to distract himself from that particularly forbidden fantasy, “where were we?” He looked himself up and down, then settled his gaze on his horns.

He still didn’t like the look of them. They didn’t feel like they were truly a part of him. They felt like intruders on his own body. Though they certainly did have their uses in the bedroom, he would at least give them that. With a half-smile on his face, he lifted a hand to his right horn. He gave it a few tugs, and frowned. It didn’t have quite the same, er, _effect_ as when Crowley did it. He gave a disappointed “tsk”, then banished them out of his sight with a dismissive flick of the wrist.

The scales were next. He tilted his head from side to side to look at the keeled monstrosities lining his neck. Only… they weren’t so monstrous, he thought. The thought startled him. He blinked at his reflection in shock, then frowned. “I…” He swallowed thickly, then lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I hate you anymore,” he told his scales. Oh, he didn’t _love_ them by any means… But Crowley did. _Crowley_ always treated them so tenderly. Stroked them, kissed them. He never made Aziraphale feel ashamed when they emerged without his meaning them to.

Just a few days prior, when they’d been snuggling in bed, Aziraphale had grown so comfortable that his scales had rippled out, popping up happily to join in the warmth of the day. He’d felt it happen, and had been about to force them back in when Crowley had chuckled and then pressed a soft, sweet kiss to the scales on his neck. He’d run his hands over the side of his arm, then rolled over on top of him so that he could look into his eyes as he’d brought Aziraphale’s hand to his lips, kissing the scaled side of his palm, just under his pinky. It had felt so lovely, so delicate… He’d never thought he’d be able to feel that way after he’d fallen.

He recalled the first time he’d turned into a snake, the confusion of waking up in a new form, covered in scales. He’d thought it was all a dream. He remembered the horror that’d come from finally realizing his fate. He swallowed thickly, recalling the panicked way in which he’d become a snake to avoid Crowley, and how helpless and vulnerable he’d felt upon coming out of hiding.

It wasn’t so bad, now. Especially since he’d learned to control it. It was not having the _option_ that had made it so terrible, really. Still, he wasn’t overly fond of his snake form. _Then again_ , he thought with a considerate tilt of his head, _I haven’t really spent much time in that state on_ purpose _, have I?_

Aziraphale took a deep breath and allowed his scales to fully overtake his body, until he was a thick, short snake curled up on his bedroom floor. He rose to face himself in the mirror, only a small part of his lower body still coiled on the vintage rug.

“Ssstrange,” he mused, not in regards to his reflection, but more over his reaction to it. It didn’t… bother him? He could look at himself, and still _feel_ like himself. A different _version_ of himself, surely, but he didn’t feel as terribly out of place in that form as he once did. In fact, he felt quite at home. Comfortable, even. So comfortable, in fact, that he was suddenly discontented with the roughness of the rug below him. He turned from the mirror, vanity forgotten in favor of seeking the luxury of his bed, and began slithering in its direction. It was still an odd sensation, slithering about, but it seemed to come to him naturally.

Once settled on the bed, he curled in on himself and rested his head atop the heap of his body. He hummed contentedly and burrowed his nose deeper into his coils, wishing only that he could close his eyes. It was a bit strange, having no eyelids. Nevertheless, he found himself near dozing off, until he heard footsteps outside the door.

Crowley flung the door open. “Hey, angel, I picked up some– Oh.” He was quiet for a moment, and Aziraphale felt the side of the bed dip as Crowley took a tentative seat. “Hey, sweetheart. Are… Are you stuck again?”

Aziraphale lifted his head to look at his husband’s concerned frown. It made him feel warm in all the best ways, knowing how deeply Crowley cared for him. “Oh, hello, dear. No, I’ve just been, er, resssting.”

Crowley was clearly taken aback, but seemed to be doing his best to act natural, as if he feared the wrong reaction would upset him. “Well, that’s… That’s good,” he said carefully. “Good. Good. _Great_ , actually. Mind if I join?”

Aziraphale wriggled with delight as he settled more comfortably into the mattress. “Oh, please do!”

Crowley beamed, transforming into a snake immediately and flinging himself onto the bed to curl up around his husband.

“What did you bring?” Aziraphale asked, wriggling contentedly in Crowley’s embrace.

“Hm?”

“You said you’d ‘picked up’ sssomething, as you were walking in. What was it?”

“Oh, that. Pastries.”

Aziraphale gave an appreciative hum. “Oh, I do think I would like to enjoy some of that later.”

“Thought you might.” Crowley sighed. “Were you, er, having a nap, or did you just want to lie like this for a bit?”

“Oh, this is lovely. Though I _am_ getting a bit sleepy.”

“Well, nestle in, dear snusband.”

“Hrm. Suddenly I’m less inclined to be near you.” Aziraphale moved as though he were going to slither off the bed, but then snuggled closer to Crowley.

Crowley cackled, settling his head atop Aziraphale’s. He flicked out his tongue, nearly hitting Aziraphale’s eye.

“ _Do_ watch where you’re putting that thing! And quit laughing. We’re meant to be resting; if you can’t do that, you wily thing, then go… go drown some ducks, or something.” Aziraphale couldn’t help the little laugh that burst out of him as he teased Crowley, and Crowley echoed the joyous noise with his own.

Once Crowley finally got a hold of himself and the laughter died down, the two of them rested, contentedly wrapped around each other.

Hours might have passed, Aziraphale wasn’t sure–he seemed to have fallen asleep. As he blinked awake, he frowned at the feeling of a large, smooth rope wrapped around him.

Er, no, not a rope. Serpent. His husband, clearly. Aziraphale tried to sit up but couldn’t under Crowley’s weight. He tapped politely on a few scales. “Er, do wake up, dear. You’re being rather… constrictive.”

Crowley shifted around him, then suddenly he was in his usual form, lying beside Aziraphale on the bed. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “You got human-shaped when you fell asleep, so I got bigger to,” a yawn, “to accommodate.”

Aziraphale smiled softly. “How sweet of you.”

“Shuddup,” said Crowley, blushing as he sat up to stretch. “We should have a bath. S’been a while.”

“It has, hasn’t it. That _does_ sound lovely…”

Crowley practically yanked him from the bed in the direction of the bathroom. “C’mon, then, let’s get naked.”

Aziraphale made a disapproving noise, but smiled nonetheless as he let Crowley strip him and set him in the miraculously already-full tub. It smelled of rose bubble bath. There were even petals in it. Good Lord, his husband really was a sap, wasn’t he?

“What’re you smiling at,” demanded Crowley as he slipped into the tub, right behind Aziraphale, and pulled him close to his chest.

“Oh, just you,” admitted Aziraphale with a pleased sigh, sinking down further into the water and cozying himself up against Crowley’s chest. He turned his face just enough to press a kiss to Crowley’s collarbone, then swiped his tongue over the skin there. Then he craned his neck upwards for a deep, sloppy kiss on the lips.

Crowley made a strangled noise against Aziraphale’s mouth.

“ _Ohh_ ,” Aziraphale murmured. “Do you _like_ that, dear?” He slid his hands under the water and onto Crowley’s thighs, rubbing them slowly. He could feel Crowley’s cock hardening against his back, and smiled. “Goodness,” he said, his voice low. “And I’ve hardly even _touched_ you.”

Crowley whined a bit, shifting in the tub, the slow drag of his hardening length on Aziraphale’s slippery wet skin driving the both of them mad.

“Well, then,” said Aziraphale after he collected himself. “Would you like to try having sex in the bath?”

Crowley gave another small whimper, then collected himself enough to say, “Sounds… complicated.” He hissed, his hips moving ever so subtly to rub against his husband some more.

“Mm. But fun, don’t you think? Come on, dear…” Aziraphale rubbed Crowley’s thighs a bit more roughly, then murmured, “It’ll be a splash.”

Crowley groaned. “That was terrible, angel.”

“Oh, as though you’ve _any_ room to talk,” Aziraphale chided, sitting up and turning in the tub to face Crowley. “So, what is it then? Shall I stroke you off under the water? Ride you, perhaps?” He frowned, looking down at the space around them. Crowley had miracled the bath larger some time ago, but it would still be a bit difficult to have penetrative sex, he thought. “On second thought,” said Aziraphale, “we could simply take care of ourselves. You could watch me rub myself, and I’ll watch you from the opposite side of the tub, until we come.”

Crowley tipped his head back, a groan spilling from his lips as he exposed his throat. Aziraphale licked his lips.

“Do you like that idea, dear?”

Another broken sound from Crowley, who merely nodded and brought his gaze back to Aziraphale’s. His hand slipped from the side of the tub into the water, obscured by the bubble bath, but the movement of his arm made it clear he had already put Aziraphale’s suggestion to practice.

Aziraphale hummed happily. Perhaps a bit _too_ happily, as the mere sound of it prompted Crowley to bite his lip and close his eyes. Satisfied with that reaction, Aziraphale reached down between his own legs and began to stimulate his clit, rubbing it in slow, hard circles. “Mmm, oh, goodness, that feels wonderful.” The slipperiness of the water was different from that of his own natural lubrication, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure that he liked it quite as much, but it did its job. He groaned as his clit throbbed under his fingertips.

Crowley groaned from the other side of the tub, and the movements under the water grew a bit more frantic.

“Oh, Lord, I’m so _wet_.” Aziraphale stared at his husband until Crowley opened his eyes to meet his heavy gaze. “Are you hard, dear? Does it feel good, touching your cock while you watch me, knowing that I’m rubbing my cunt beneath the water?”

Crowley let out a groan that turned into a whimper, squeezing his eyes shut again.

“ _Watch_ me,” Aziraphale demanded. Then, his voice lighter, sweeter, “If you please.”

“Fuck,” gasped Crowley, looking back at him, his stare sharp as ever, pupils dilated, surrounded by bursts of golden yellow.

“Mmm, there you are.” Aziraphale let out a little whimper of his own, partly because he knew it excited Crowley and partly because he really couldn’t help it. “You’re so lovely. I do _so_ love your eyes. I know you like to keep them covered, and I believe I know why. It means so much to me that you allow me to see them. That you would be so open with me, Crowley, so _vulnerable_ , is something I cherish dearly.”

Crowley seemed to melt under the praise, sinking further into the bathwater with a groan.

Aziraphale smirked, taking note of his husband’s response to the gentle words. “You’ve always let me see you, haven’t you? You sweet, wonderful thing. You may have feigned irritation, played up on the sinful nature you were expected to have, but you never _truly_ hid yourself from me, did you? Always encouraging me to be myself, however quietly. Patiently. What a _good_ example you’ve set for me, Crowley. Thank you.”

Crowley whimpered, head tilting back as he worked his cock under the water. “Sh-shit. Shit.”

“You really are _so_ good, Crowley,” Aziraphale continued, getting rather worked up, himself, from all the doting on the love of his life. “So good at– _mmmph, ohh_ –s-so good at _loving_ , especially at loving me. You’ve cared for me so well, always, and especially now. Darling, I know we’ve had some, s-some rather passionate sex in the recent past, and I– _ohhh, fuck_ –I-I’ve enjoyed it greatly, but if we put all that aside, if all I could do was to, to _hold_ you in my arms, and be held by you, for the rest of eternity, my dear, it would be enough. I, I love you _so_ dearly. I’m. I’m dripping with it. Every part of me, my entire being, absolutely _soaked_ _through_ with love for you.”

“F-fuck, angel,” Crowley breathed, his movements slowing down a bit. “M’close.” 

“Come for me, dearest,” Aziraphale said, his own breath shallow as he continued to rub his pussy slowly, methodically, dipping a couple fingers inside of himself. “You deserve it, my dear. You,” Aziraphale gasped as his fingers found his G-spot, “ _ohh_ , you deserve such _wonderful_ things. And I want to see you, darling, I want to see you feel your pleasure.”

Crowley let out a helpless whine, picked up the pace of his stroking, and bit down hard on his lip.

The sight and sound of his husband pleasuring himself to Aziraphale’s praises was near-overwhelming. They’d hardly begun touching themselves, and yet Aziraphale already felt so close to the edge. He brought his free hand down to rub frantically at his clit as he fingered himself with his other hand. “Oh, God, oh _fuck_ , Crowley, I– I’m going to come, dear, I–” Aziraphale clenched around his fingers, his pleasure cresting. He held Crowley’s deep, awestruck gaze, moaning as he came for his husband. “ _Ohhh yesss,_ oh _God…_ Mmmph _. Fuck._ ”

“Angel,” Crowley groaned, spilling his seed into the bath without another word.

They both sat still for a moment, silent save for the erratic sounds of their breathing.

“Well,” Aziraphale said after a moment. “That was something.”

“Yup,” breathed Crowley, sounding a bit dazed.

Aziraphale hummed happily and wiggled himself down a bit more into the water.

“ _Hah_ ,” laughed Crowley, sounding much more present despite his chest heaving as he continued to catch his breath, “you’re basically bathing in my come now.”

Aziraphale fixed him with a disapproving stare, cursing the part of himself that was actually rather _aroused_ by the thought of swimming in his husband’s seed.

“Ohhhh, you _like_ that, don’t you?” Crowley, ever observant, was looking at him with a smirk and a pointedly cocked brow. “Bathing in _un_ holy water.”

With a “tsk”, Aziraphale turned his head to look away from Crowley, who cackled and sent a splash of come-infused bathwater his way. Aziraphale snapped his gaze back to his bastard of a husband and put on a face that portrayed far more indignation than he actually felt. “Why, you _little_ –”

Before he could finish chastising him, Crowley took his serpent form and darted out of the tub, into the bedroom, and out the door. Aziraphale, too absorbed in the playful moment to consider being refined, leapt out of the tub, leaving several puddles on the floor as he ran after Crowley.

Only, running was never his forte, and, really, Crowley seemed to be having such fun darting around the shop as a snake. So, Aziraphale followed suit. He slithered down the stairs at lightning speed, then met Crowley’s stare. He’d paused to wait for him on a table at the bottom of the stairs.

Crowley held his gaze as his lower half curled around a book, then, slowly, _slowly_ , maneuvered it toward the edge.

“Crowley, what are you–”

With a sudden flick of his tail, Crowley threw the book off the table. He cackled when Aziraphale simply stared down at the book in shock. When Aziraphale returned his attention to him, Crowley slithered down from the table and onto the nearest bookshelf.

“Oh, you _wicked_ –”

_Thunk_.

Another book hit the floor, and Crowley was already curling his tail around his next victim. It was a much larger book, and quite rare. Aziraphale fixed Crowley with the best glare he could manage in his current form.

“Don’t you _dare_ –”

_Wham!_

A snicker, and Crowley was on his way, darting across the shop, evidently to cause more mischief. Aziraphale turned back into his naked, still-wet human form in order to pick up the books and set them back in place, then looked in the direction Crowley had taken off toward with a frown. He heard the slow, tell-tale drag of a thin paperback book against a wooden shelf, and shouted a warning at his husband.

_Plap._

_Oh, alright, then. If that’s how you’d like it to be._ Aziraphale couldn’t help the devilish grin that overtook his face as he returned to snake form, catching up to Crowley, who sent another two books off the shelf before Aziraphale had even un-snaked himself to pick up the other one.

“You– You _fiend_!”

Crowley cackled and took off again, Aziraphale re-shelving the books and then reassuming his snake form to chase after him. They did this for several minutes, Crowley darting about and flinging books and other small objects every which way, behaving a bit more like a cat than a snake, if Aziraphale stopped to think about it. But Aziraphale _didn’t_ stop to think about it, because he was too busy following after him, snaking and un-snaking to continue the chase while picking up and re-shelving items along the way.

Then Crowley made the mistake of wrapping his tail around another book. A book that he’d had to slither to the top of a bookcase to reach. A book that, along with the others on that particular shelf, Aziraphale purposefully kept out of reach of customers.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale warned, “that’s a first edition, don’t even _th_ –”

Crowley curled his tail around it, challengingly.

“Don’t you–”

He slid it across the shelf, until it teetered on the edge.

“Crowley!”

_Thud_.

Well, that was the last straw. It was all fun and games until someone messed with his First Editions. “Oh, that is _quite_ enough!” Aziraphale launched himself at Crowley, morphing from snake to human form in mid-air, wrestling the serpent to the ground. It was all in good humor, still, even prompting a satisfied smile from Aziraphale when Crowley let out a small squeak at the sudden attack, but he was also quite determined to keep his husband from causing any more mischief.

Lest Aziraphale think he had the upper hand, Crowley grew larger, and began twisting himself around him, binding his limbs to his sides in a rather tight squeeze, and _oh_ , if that didn’t give him all sorts of fun ideas, in his naked and wet state of being. He moaned in his husband’s grasp, writhing ever so slightly, prompting an amused chuckle from the serpent. “Ssssomebody like being all wrapped up in the Ssserpent of Eden, hmm?” Crowley teased Aziraphale’s ear with his tongue.

“Oh, you,” Aziraphale huffed, pouting. “Let me go, will you? You’ve had your fun.”

“But have _you_?” Crowley curled his tail around to run up and down Aziraphale’s leg, rubbing lasciviously against his inner thigh.

“Oh, f-fuck.” Aziraphale whimpered, closing his eyes as he allowed himself to swim in the sensations Crowley was providing him.

“Would you… Would you like that?” Crowley asked carefully, voice low and breathy. “Would you like me to… to fuck you with my tail?”

A high-pitched whimper made itself heard in Aziraphale’s throat. He shifted his hips as best he could in his restraints. _Crowley_ , he remembered. It was _Crowley_ restraining him. He groaned and sought out friction, his clit rubbing against his husband’s smooth, cool scales.

“If that’s something you want, angel, you’re going to have to use your words.” Crowley spoke so softly, so hesitantly, it made Aziraphale wonder if he was self-conscious about having sex in his current form.

“I– Do _you_ want…?”

“Yesssss,” Crowley hissed, then licked Aziraphale’s neck. “Very much, yes. But only if you’re certain about it.”

“Using… Using your tail wouldn’t be very stimulating for you, I wouldn’t think.”

“Hearing you moan and feeling you writhe in my coils will be pleasure enough, believe me.”

With a whimper and a short nod, Aziraphale continued rubbing his clit against his husband. “Please. Please fuck me like this. Please.”

And so, that was how Aziraphale ended up with a serpent’s tail in his pussy, thrusting in and out of his sopping entrance right in the middle of the shop. The ground wasn’t the most comfortable place to have sex, but Crowley was coiled so perfectly around him that no parts of him even touched the hard floor. He was entirely wrapped up in Crowley–safe, secure, and so wonderfully seen-to. He could hardly move, quite literally caught up in pleasure, and _Lord_ , it was pure Heaven. Or, what Heaven _should_ be, rather. He didn’t want it to end.

Still, there was little he could do to prolong the event when his cunt clenched around the end of Crowley’s body, and he felt himself squirt on his husband. Manicured claws emerged to grip at Crowley with all his might as he howled his pleasure.

Coming down from his high, he chuckled in his husband’s grasp. “Well, that was,” he sighed, “that was quite something.” He turned his head to kiss an indeterminate part of Crowley’s body. “Thank you, dear.”

Crowley reassumed his naked human form and wrapped Aziraphale up in his arms, miracling a large, soft cushion beneath them in the process. He pressed a sweet kiss to the scales at the top of Aziraphale’s forehead. “You know…,” he murmured, resting his head in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him by instinct. “You know I’d never actually do harm to your precious books, right, angel?”

“I know, dearest,” said Aziraphale, his voice soft and dripping with appreciation. “They all landed perfectly, by some small miracle.”

“Miracles,” Crowley corrected. He nuzzled against Aziraphale’s neck, and Aziraphale could feel him smile against his skin. “You smell like roses,” said Crowley. Then, his voice tinged with amusement, “And my demonic ssseed.”

Aziraphale snorted. “Mm, and whose fault is that?”

“Well, I’d argue it’s yours, seeing as _you’re_ the one who suggested I should have a wank in the tub.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Yes, I suppose so,” he conceded. He held Crowley tighter. “Does it smell good, at least?”

“My come, or the roses?”

Aziraphale huffed a laugh. “The combination, rather.”

“Oh, yeah. S’good. Perfect. Sweet and sinful. Just how I like you.”

“Oh, my. You _like_ me?!” Aziraphale feigned innocent shock.

“Have for 6,000 years,” said Crowley flatly, “but thanks for finally noticing.”

Aziraphale chuckled happily, then pressed a kiss to the top of Crowley’s head. “I do so love you, my dear.”

“Yeah?” Crowley lifted his head to fix him with a dumb grin. “How’s that?”

“Why do I love you? Oh, darling, if I were to list the reasons, the world might have finished its life cycle by the end of it. We would be floating in space, amongst the stars you’ve made,” Aziraphale chuckled. “Suffice to say, I love you because every fibre of my being _demands_ it. Perhaps I’ll spend eternity telling you why, little by little. Wouldn’t want to overwhelm you, you know.” He took Crowley’s chin in his hand, urging his husband’s stunned face lower so that he could press a sweet kiss to his lips. “Or,” he continued as he let Crowley pull away and stare, unblinkingly, at him, “might you have meant, in what _way_ do I love you? I can answer that, too. It’s rather all-encompassing, you see; I love you wholly and completely, with all that I am,” said Aziraphale, rubbing his husband’s back in gentle circles. “I do hope that’s alright with you.”

“Ngh– Y– Yeah. S’fine.” Crowley flushed pink and resettled his head against Aziraphale’s chest. Not much later, Aziraphale felt a tickling wetness on his collarbone. Tears, he realized.

“Oh, Crowley,” he said softly. “Was that a bit too much?”

Crowley sniffed and shook his head, his hair brushing Aziraphale’s ear and jaw. He clung a bit tighter to him. “Was fine. M’fine. _Good_. I’m good. _Fuck_ , I love you, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled. “I love you, too, dearest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah. I wasn't even gonna put a sex scene in this chapter, originally. But Aziraphale and Crowley have a mind of their own, apparently, and those bastards are so goddamn horny.
> 
> Keep an eye out for eventual exploration of Aziraphale's little fang-inspired fantasy. 👀 (I'll warn anyone not interested when the chapter comes along.)


	14. Chapter 14

“D’you, er, want to move upstairs?”

Aziraphale hummed lowly and shook his head, nuzzling closer to his husband on the large, round floor cushion where they lay. “I’m quite comfortable here. You’ve made a nice place for us to rest.”

Crowley shrugged, more with his face than his shoulders. “S’basically just a big dog bed.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “Only the best for your dear husband, of course,” he said flatly.

Crowley huffed a laugh that betrayed just how sleepy he was. “‘Course. Only the best.”

Aziraphale thinned his gaze, then dropped the teasing glare and giggled as he snuggled closer and pressed a kiss to Crowley’s cheek. “It’s always so wonderful to snuggle close with you, darling,” said Aziraphale, earning a small, insincere hiss from Crowley at calling the activity by its rightful name. “Cuddle, then,” he said. That earned him another disapproving noise, but Crowley nestled in closer still. “It _is_ getting a bit chilly, though.”

A warm blanket found itself draped over the two of them, and Crowley pressed a short, sweet kiss to Aziraphale’s lips. “Better?”

“Mm,” hummed Aziraphale, nodding as he closed his eyes and took in the warmth of the new bedding, and the inherent feeling of safety that came with being in his husband’s arms. “This truly is one of my favorite things to do these days, you know. Even when we’re…” Aziraphale trailed off, biting his lip.

Crowley blinked at him, a soft, encouraging smile on his face.

“When we’re in snake form,” Aziraphale finally admitted. “Even then.”

Crowley grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale smiled back. “Perhaps even _especially_ so,” he added. “Wrapped up in one another… You’re rather delightful in that form, you know. Even if you _are_ a mischievous thing.”

“Thanksss,” said Crowley, hissing more out of laziness than to amuse his husband. “But, I hope it’s not just me.”

Aziraphale frowned. “Just you what?”

“Making it, you know, ‘delightful’ or whatever.” Crowley put his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder and began gently rubbing his arm. It caused the blanket to slip down a bit, but the heat of Crowley’s palm was a welcomed replacement. “I hope someday you’ll be comfortable in your own, er, snakeskin.”

“Oh, I was! I am, I mean.” Aziraphale frowned. “I think. I was, er, examining myself, you know. Before you came in, earlier.”

Crowley knit his brows. “‘Examining’ yourself?”

“Er, yes, I– Before you found me coiled up on the bed, I’d been going over my newest features in the mirror. In human form, first, and then I assumed my snake form, and realized I found it not _nearly_ as off-putting as–”

“Hang on, _new features_?! Something else pop up I somehow missed?” Crowley pulled back and lifted the blanket to give Aziraphale’s body a once-over, then a twice-over.

Aziraphale chuckled. “No, you silly thing,” he said, patting Crowley’s chest and drawing the blanket back over the two of them. “I just meant everything that’s happened since the… Well, since my fall.”

Crowley’s mouth formed an “oh” of understanding. He settled back into Aziraphale’s arms. “Yeah, that– That makes sense.”

Aziraphale chuckled again and pressed a kiss to Crowley’s forehead. “Anyway, as I was saying, I was going over myself and realized I’m not as, er, put-off by my appearance as I was at first.”

“Well, good.” Crowley beamed. “That’s _great_ , angel.”

Aziraphale hummed in agreement, then frowned. “I couldn’t quite manage to look myself in the eye, though.” He sighed. “I’m still rather, er, disconnected, you know. From these.” He lifted a hand to gesture at his eyes, allowing the black irises to spill out into his scleras.

Crowley sucked in a breath, then bit his lip.

“They just seem so… soulless. Empty. As though not a thing rests behind them. Or worse, as though nothing but… but _evil_ lurks behind them.”

Crowley blinked and shook his head a few times. “Sorry, what?”

Aziraphale clicked his tongue. “Oh, _honestly_ ,” he said, reining his eyes back into a more human arrangement.

“Sorry, s’just… Right, first of all, there’s not an ounce of evil in you. I _know_ evil, angel, I was there when it first took form, and you’re not it. Bit of a bastard, maybe, sometimes, but _not_ evil. Got it?” Crowley didn’t wait for Aziraphale to respond before continuing, “And _soulless_?! _Empty_? Aziraphale, you’ve so much life in you– radiant like the sodding sun, you are.”

“It’s not– Thank you,” said Aziraphale, with a brief smile. “But it’s not that I think I _am_ such a way, not _really_ … Only that my eyes make me _feel_ that way, Crowley. They’re so… well, demonic. A-and I– I don’t–”

“What do you think of _my_ eyes, angel?”

“Th-that’s different,” Aziraphale stammered, his gaze flicking to Crowley’s for a moment before he averted it to the space between them.

“Is it? You know, my eyes used to be golden. Like, _actually_ golden. Irises sparkled like glitter in the sun.”

“…I… I didn’t know that, no.”

“Yeah, well. Point is, I was never all that attached to them, but they were _mine_. And then they changed. You think that was easy for me?”

Aziraphale shook his head.

“No,” Crowley confirmed. “But I don’t hate them anymore. Oh, sure, I cover them, but that’s more for the humans’ sake than mine.”

Aziraphale quirked a brow as if to say _I-know-that’s-not-the-only-reason_ , but didn’t press the issue.

“So?” said Crowley, brows raised expectantly.

Aziraphale frowned. “What?”

“What do you think of my eyes?”

Aziraphale sighed and looked into those amber, serpentine eyes. “I think they’re lovely, dear. You know that.”

Crowley smiled. “Mm. So, question is, if _my_ eyes can be l– er, y’know, like that, even after my fall, then why can’t yours?”

Aziraphale swallowed and looked away. “It’s not… it’s not just that. Clearly, with all your doting, I could learn to believe that my– that is, that _these_ eyes are… are lovely, I suppose.” He sighed. “It’s that they’re not _mine_. They don’t feel like mine. I don’t _recognize_ myself with them. Six thousand _years_ , Crowley, I looked at the Earth through the same eyes, and now…”

“Well, they’re still the same pair of eyes,” said Crowley, gently. “Just changed a bit.”

Aziraphale gave him a pointed look. “Yes, and I don’t _like_ the change, is the point.”

Crowley looked thoughtful for a moment. Then, “S’like the clothes in that show. Orange is the New Black. Black is the new, ah, blue. Blue-green? Grey? Your eyes always seemed to change color in the light, before. Whatever, _point is_ , it’s– It’s like that.”

Aziraphale stared quizzically at his husband for a good ten seconds before uttering a simple, “What?”

“No one _wants_ to put on prison clothes, probably. It’s not most people’s personal style. And, y’know, comes with a bit of trauma, probably, at having been made prisoner, and all.”

Aziraphale gave him a questioning look. “What on _Earth_ are you–”

“Stay with me,” said Crowley, propping himself up on his side with a sudden burst of energy as he looked down at his husband. “It’s like this, angel: You may not have chosen to, ah, wear those eyes. You were forced into it, right?”

“Thank you for reminding me, dear.”

Crowley ignored Aziraphale’s flat tone and continued with determined enthusiasm, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t pull it off! Maybe they don’t feel like your eyes. Maybe it feels more like you’re,” he gestured vaguely, “I don’t know, borrowing a dress from a friend. Or, or being made to wear a prison suit, like I said. But you wear it _well_. You wear them well.”

Aziraphale looked a bit lost in the analogy, but was beginning to understand what Crowley was trying to say. “I see…”

“And that’s the important thing, right?! You _see_! That’s all they’re really for, anyway. Eyes. ‘Least they still _work_.”

Aziraphale exhaled somewhat amusedly. “Yes, I suppose I should be grateful I still have the ability to gaze upon _your_ eyes, even if you’re left with these empty, dark ones staring back at you.”

“How are you not getting–” Crowley groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, then looked back at his husband. “I _like_ the darkness, angel! It’s– Your eyes are _sexy_! I like them when they’re fully black, and I like them when you try to make them look a bit more human. Looks like your pupils are blown all the time. Like you’re constantly aroused, really. I’m more than appreciative of that.” Crowley tacked on a wink at the end of his sentence.

Aziraphale “tsk”d and batted Crowley on the arm, prompting him to drop back down beside him.

“I _mean_ it,” Crowley exclaimed through a laugh, his head coming to rest near his husband’s. “I liked your eyes before, and I like them now. I just want to help _you_ like them. Or at least _accept_ them, if you can.”

“You’re fetishizing my demonic nature, that’s what you’re doing.”

Crowley scoffed. “As if you never did mine.”

Aziraphale let out a little gasp, sitting up a bit. “I _never_!”

“Uh-huh. Right,” said Crowley, smiling through his words. “So you never fantasized about me corrupting you?”

“Of course not! Don’t be ridiculous,” Aziraphale huffed, lying back down.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said flatly, “we’ve had all kinds of gloriously dirty sex in the past few months. You’ve asked me to tie you up, to choke you, to keep you from coming until I do… Fuck’s sake, it was less than an hour ago you had the lower part of my _snake_ form in your cunt, and–”

“You’re being obscene!”

Crowley chuckled. “I’m just talking about _you_!”

Aziraphale tutted and looked away.

“Anyway, as I was saying, all that kinky fucking, and you expect me to believe you haven’t had dirty little pent up fantasies about me making you my little angelic whore?”

“Crowley!”

Crowley smirked. “I can’t tell if you’re aroused or not, ‘cause your perfect, pretty eyes are all black. Face is a bit red, though.”

“That’s because you’re _irritating_ me.”

“Mm. So, can I irritate you a bit more upstairs?” Crowley proposed with a wide grin.

There was a moment of silence as Aziraphale eyed Crowley with a considering, thin-lipped frown. Then, “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THEN THEY FUCKED.
> 
> So I am finally almost finished with writing the rest of this fic, which means I can actually give an ETA on the final two chapters! Wahoo! The next update will be posted next Sunday, and the final chapter on the following Sunday. Bit sad about this story coming to an end but dear god it's been long enough hasn't it lolol. So sorry for the inconsistent updating, here's to posting the last two chapters in a timely manner. :P


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content Notice** (mild spoilers): This chapter contains (an enthusiastically consenting) Crowley being injected with Aziraphale’s venom and paralyzed during sex. There’s also a mild injury and subsequent licking of blood, as well as changing Efforts during sex. If that’s not your sort of thing, you might want to skip this one.

TWO MONTHS LATER

“When this is all over,” said Crowley, “when we can go out and, you know, _actually_ live like normal again… I’ve got a few plans.”

It was mid-August, and the two of them were seated comfortably in their usual spots in the back of the shop, Aziraphale sipping tea in his favorite chair while Crowley reclined on the sofa across from him.

“Oh?”

“Yup.”

“What sort of plans?”

“Y’know, outings. _Dates_. Stuff.”

“I see.” Aziraphale smiled. “Care to share one of your plans with me, dearest?” He hid a bashful smile behind his teacup. “Or are they meant to be surprises?”

Crowley beamed. “Surprises, yeah. That’ll– Keeping you interested, s’what I’m doing.” 

“Oh, as if you ever had to worry about _that_ , you precious thing,” said Aziraphale, setting his cup down and fixing his husband with an adoring smile.

Crowley blushed. “Nnh, yeah. Good.” He bit his lip. “I can… I can share one of them, though. Might be something to look forward to…,” he lowered his voice, “if you like the idea.”

Aziraphale felt a chill down his spine at the demon’s suggestive tone. “And wh-what might it be, your idea?”

“Well, there’s this garden,” said Crowley through a growing grin, “sort of a secluded place, few hours away.”

“A few hours by whose driving standards, exactly?”

“Mine,” Crowley said quickly. “Anyway,” he continued before Aziraphale could express disapproval in his driving, “this place, I think you’d like it. Gets a good amount of sun, and there’s this spot, a big tree over by this little river, or pond, or _whatever_ , some water source, I dunno, and it’s peaceful and beautiful and… I think we could have fun there.”

“And when you say, ‘have fun’…”

Crowley smirked. “‘Have _fun_ ,’ yeah.”

“You want to make love to me outdoors,” Aziraphale summarized flatly. “In _public_.”

“Nnh, well, yeah,” said Crowley, suddenly blushing again. “Doesn’t mean anyone has to _see_ , but yeah, outdoors is public, I guess.”

Aziraphale sat quietly for a moment. “I suppose I would be open to that,” he said, his voice low. He picked up his tea and took a sip.

“Yeah?” Crowley grinned. “S’been one of my fantasies since… fuck, the Garden, honestly.”

“Since _Eden_?” Aziraphale gasped, setting his cup down. “Goodness, Crowley. I– I don’t think I realized…”

“Well, it wasn’t as deep as all that back then. I mean, you fascinated me from the start, yeah, but I didn’t really _get it_ until later. Anyway, I saw the humans messing about under a fruit tree–Not _that_ fruit tree, just y’know… regular, boring tree, but… Anyway, I saw them and got curious. Didn’t wanna do it with _them_ , obviously, and you were the only other person I kinda knew, so. I dunno. Thought about it a bit.” Crowley shrugged. “It was an innocent sort of fantasy.”

“Oh, public intercourse is _innocent_ , is it?”

Crowley scrunched up his nose at the word “intercourse”. Then, defensively, “Well I didn’t even know what it _was_ at the time, did I? I was just curious about it! That’s what ‘innocent’ means.”

Aziraphale quirked a brow at him and pursed his lips, then let his face fall into a soft smile. “Alright, I suppose. When things are permitting, we’ll go and have a naughty little fuck in this garden of yours.”

Crowley made a strangled sound in the back of his throat and melted back into the sofa. “Nngh, good, yeah. Good. Great. Thanks,” he said awkwardly.

Aziraphale gave a little chuckle, shaking his head as he continued sipping his tea. He let himself imagine the scene Crowley had described, and smiled at the thought of making love to him under a tree, all the bright and soft colors of a spring garden around them. Then he nearly choked when his mind decided it was time to flood him with images of a different fantasy–one he’d been avoiding for the past couple of months. Images of Crowley, lying on his back on the grass–no, on their bed, safe and secluded from anyone else’s view, and… Frozen in place, helpless to Aziraphale’s touch. Two bite marks on his neck, a strained but clearly aroused look on his face as Aziraphale’s hands roamed his body, his cock stiffening as he pleaded for Aziraphale to do something about it. Aziraphale nearly dropped his cup, but managed to set it down, banishing thoughts of riding Crowley until the paralyzing venom wore off and Crowley’s hands flew desperately to him. Aziraphale cleared his throat and squeezed his eyes shut.

“You good, angel?”

It took Aziraphale a few seconds to even register he’d been spoken to. “Oh, er, yes,” he said. He looked to Crowley, who was staring at him with pointedly raised brows. Aziraphale shifted in his seat. “You were, erm, well– You brought up one of your fantasies,” he said, despite himself. But, oh, he was nearly whining at the anticipation of finally expressing his desire, however sinful it may be.

“I did, yeah.” Crowley grinned. “Got one _you’d_ like to share, Aziraphale?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Crowley leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Come _onnn_ , hit me with it. Can’t be worse than public ‘intercourse’, can it?”

Aziraphale swallowed thickly, feeling himself start to sweat. “I… As a matter of fact, I think it might be.

“I’m not going to judge you for it, angel,” said Crowley, his teasing tone replaced with one of sincerity.

Aziraphale huffed a humorless laugh. “Perhaps not, but I believe _I_ will. I _am…_ ”

Crowley reached out and put a hand on Aziraphale’s arm. “Hey, you can tell me. Really. Whatever it is, if I can make it happen for you, I’ll probably want to.”

Aziraphale avoided his gaze. “Well, I don’t know about that. It’s– You’re welcome to deny–”

“For fuck’s sake, angel,” Crowley groaned, “just tell me what you want. If I really don’t want it, I’ll tell you, no hard feelings. But give it a chance, at least.”

Aziraphale hesitated. “I… I want…” He gulped. “I want to bite you.”

“Bite me?” Crowley chuckled. “Angel, that’s hardly a big deal. Done it before, haven’t you?”

“I want to bite you with my _fangs_ ,” said Aziraphale, slowly, quietly, as though he might frighten Crowley away at the mere mention of it. He looked down, taking a deep breath before continuing. “To… To put my venom in you, a-and… bring you pleasure, and take pleasure in you, while you lie still on the bed.” When Aziraphale dared to look up, Crowley was gaping at him. Aziraphale averted his gaze again and began to panic, shame flushing his skin pink. “I… I’m sorry, I’ve made you uncomfortable. And you’ve clearly stated you don’t even _like_ our fangs–oh, my dear, I–”

“I said I didn’t like _my_ fangs,” Crowley interrupted. “Never said I didn’t like fangs as a whole concept.” He gulped. “Or that I wouldn’t want you to… pierce my neck and use my body while I lie powerless to your will.” He was practically panting as he stammered, “I, uh, mmn, I… I… Yeah, I can– I can handle that, I think. Yeah. _Fuck_.”

Aziraphale looked up at him with wide eyes. “You… Really?”

Crowley moaned. “ _Yes_.” He took a moment to collect himself, while Aziraphale struggled to process that he wasn’t being shut down for what he’d thought was such a shameful fantasy. “One thing, though,” said Crowley. “I can’t feel when I’m, y’know, paralyzed, so. Don’t worry about getting me off, angel, s’pointless. Just use me.”

Aziraphale swallowed. “I… I didn’t realize. I mean, I didn’t even _think_ …” He winced. “Oh, Crowley, I can’t ask that of you.”

“It’s not you asking, it’s me _giving_. I want to. I _want_ to, Aziraphale, I swear, or I wouldn’t have agreed to it. Besides, pleasure’s not all physical, yeah?” Crowley smirked. “I might be able to get off on the _mental_ part of it, honestly. I mean, lying still while you ride me, or fuck me, or whatever you want, whatever you need from me in order to bring yourself pleasure…” He huffed a disbelieving laugh. “You think that wouldn’t please me, too?”

Aziraphale tried to swallow again, but his mouth had gone a bit dry. “I… You’re certain?”

“Absolutely,” Crowley assured him. “And, anyway, it’s from the neck down, yeah? So, if there’s anything I don’t like, I can just _tell_ you.” He grinned. “We can use a safeword. Or colors or something. Whatever the kinky people do. Since, y’know. We’re like that.” Crowley took a long breath, staring blankly past his husband. “Kinky.” He blew out his breath, then laughed. “We’re _really_ kinky, now I think of it. I mean, _fuck,_ the things we’ve–”

“Do you want to do it now?” Aziraphale interrupted, then snapped his mouth shut, eyes gone wide at his own sudden eagerness. He shifted in his chair, grimacing slightly at how wet he’d become. Crowley’s eyes fell to Aziraphale’s groin, then went back up to meet his dark gaze.

“Oh,” said Crowley, voice low and rich with arousal. “Oh, you’re _excited_.”

Aziraphale squirmed a bit more and took a breath. “A bit,” he managed to say.

“How long have you been harboring this little fantasy, angel?” asked Crowley, who promptly stood up, circled behind his husband’s chair, and traced a finger lightly across the back of Aziraphale’s neck. “How long has it been calling to you from the back of your brilliant, filthy mind?”

“A–” Aziraphale swallowed and fought back a whimper. “A couple of months.”

Crowley gave a low whistle and circled back to face Aziraphale with a quirked brow. “Well, then. You’ve had a lot of time to think about it. How are you going to do it, hm? Are you going to ask me nicely to lie back and bare my neck to you? Or would you rather _hunt me down_ and make me your _prey_?”

Aziraphale made a strangled noise, then sucked in a breath and shot up from his chair, abandoning his timidity for the dominance he’d just been given permission to display in full. “Right,” he said firmly, not even looking back at Crowley as he adjusted his waistcoat and headed toward the stairs, “follow me.” When he heard Crowley’s footsteps on the stairs behind him, he threw a quick glance over his shoulder and asked, “What’s your word, then?”

“Huh?”

“The safety word, as you said. In case you don’t like something, or you want me to stop.”

“Oh. Er, _Eden_.”

Aziraphale huffed a small chuckle, opening the door to their flat and finally turning to his husband, ushering him in with an open hand. “On the bed,” he told him. “Take off your clothes first.”

“You don’t want to do that yourself later?” asked Crowley, making his way to the bed.

Aziraphale closed the door behind him and began undoing his bowtie. “With your body gone limp and offering absolutely no help to peel those ridiculously tight trousers off of you? I think not.”

The two of them were naked soon enough, and Crowley laid himself out comfortably for his husband on their bed, his head propped up on a pillow so that he would be able to see everything Aziraphale was doing with him. He tilted his head, baring his neck to him. “Ready?”

Aziraphale lost control over his scleras for a moment, the extent of his lust manifesting in the form of fully black eyes, before he shook his head, took a deep breath, and moved to cover his husband’s body with his own. “You’re certain you want this?” he breathed, fangs emerging and grazing Crowley’s neck. “You’ll be paralyzed for at least an hour, you know.”

“I’m sure you’ll find ways for us to pass the time.” Crowley stretched his neck a bit more, pressing against Aziraphale’s mouth. “Please. Do it. _Bite_ me, angel. Make me yours.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help the little growl that burst from his throat, just before he sank his fangs into Crowley, eyes squeezed shut, flooding his husband’s corporation with venom.

Crowley hissed at the sensation, his body twitching involuntarily, which almost prompted Aziraphale to pull back in shameful regret, but then Crowley gave a long, dragged out groan of pleasure, stiffened beneath him, and then went limp with a sigh. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck. That shouldn’t have felt as good as it did.”

“Perhaps it’s the _mental pleasure,_ ” quipped Aziraphale, catching his own breath. “Alright, where shall I begin?”

Crowley chuckled. “You’re asking me?”

“Thinking aloud, really.” Aziraphale pulled back, holding himself up on his hands and knees as he looked over his husband and licked his lips. His eyes landed on a nipple and his mouth followed soon after.

“You really enjoy doing that, huh?” asked Crowley, amusedly. “Even though I can’t feel anything?”

Aziraphale gave the nipple a few light sucks, then flicked it with his tongue before lifting his head to look at Crowley. “Is it so strange?”

“I mean, seems more like something you do to make the other person excited.”

Aziraphale hummed. “Well,” he said, “I have a bit of an oral fixation, I’ve been told.” And he _had_ been told. By Crowley. _Many_ times over the past few months.

Crowley chuckled. “Alright, then, have at it.”

“I think I will, thank you,” said Aziraphale before diving back in to mouth at one nipple, then the other.

“Not like I have much choice,” mused Crowley.

Aziraphale snapped his head up. “You do! I’ve told you, if– If there’s _anything_ you don’t like, you need only sa–”

“Angel, angel, relax. _Chill_. It was a joke, it’s fine. Anyway, I’m happy to relinquish control to you for a bit. I _trust_ you, Aziraphale. I _want_ you to do this. I want to be used for your pleasure. Just thinking about it got me hard earlier.” Crowley blew a puff of air from his mouth. “Which you’ll probably want to take advantage of soon, ‘cause I don’t know how long I can keep it up in this state. I mean, I don’t know if you’ll be able to get my cock up and ready for you again if I lose it.”

“Well, then,” said Aziraphale lowly, “I suppose I shouldn’t waste any time.” He shifted down Crowley’s body until he was at eye-level with his cock, hard and red and leaking. Reflexively, he darted his tongue out to swipe the pre-come into his mouth and moaned around the taste of his husband. He then took the full length of him into his mouth and gave a few sucks before the heat in his pussy became unbearable and he just _had_ to have him inside of him.

He sat up and positioned himself over Crowley, then sank onto his cock with a relieved sigh. “ _Yesss_ ,” he said, moving his hips up and down and relishing the feeling of being so _full_. “Oh, _Crowley_ ,” he moaned, and Crowley moaned along with him. Aziraphale looked at him with a frown as he continued to rise and fall on his husband’s cock. “I– _mmmh_ – I thought you couldn’t feel…?”

“Don’t have to feel it to be happy _you’re_ feeling it.” Crowley groaned. “Fuck. _Fuck_. Keep going, keep fucking yourself on me. Fuck, the _sight_ of you, angel, you’ve no idea…”

Aziraphale tilted his head back with a groan and slammed down harder and faster onto Crowley’s cock. He kept up that pace for several minutes, Crowley’s eyes fixed on him, mesmerized, before Aziraphale started quivering and brought a hand down to rub at his clit. He slowed his movements and used his free hand to reach for Crowley’s, squeezing it tightly as he came with a whimper and a sigh. He continued to rock on him for a bit, gently, slowly, coming down from his orgasm. Then Crowley’s cock pulsed and came inside of him, and Aziraphale’s eyes went wide. “Oh! You– Can you…?”

“Can’t feel it, no,” said Crowley, struggling to catch his breath, “not really, but it’s– Weird. But holy _hell_ , angel, I enjoyed all of that, believe me.”

Aziraphale swallowed and got off his husband in favor of kneeling between his spread legs. Crowley’s cock began to soften, and Aziraphale couldn’t help the impulse to dive down to suck on it for a bit before he pulled back and sighed. “Look at the mess you’ve made of me,” he said, looking down at himself, come dripping down his thigh. He looked back to Crowley with a pout.

Crowley chuckled. “Anything you want me to do about it?”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “I… Well–”

“Ah, no. Don’t do that,” said Crowley, gently but firmly.

Aziraphale frowned at him. “Do what?”

“You’re holding back,” said Crowley. “Don’t. I gave you control when I let you bite me, angel, so take control. Fuck me. Be as rough or as gentle as you want, just don’t hold yourself back. Whatever feels good, _do it._ I am actually _begging_ you: _use me._ It’s what we both want; don’t deny yourself anything for fear of it being too much for me. It won’t be. And anyway, we still have our safeword, just in case.” Crowley gave him a soft, encouraging smile. “Go wild, angel.”

Aziraphale let out a small whimper, then nodded and grabbed Crowley by the legs without another word, dragging him down a bit until the back of his head came to rest flat on the bed. He then moved up and positioned himself over Crowley’s mouth. “Lick me,” he commanded, voice quaking just a bit. He cleared his throat and put on a more confident tone. “Put your tongue inside of me and give me pleasure while you lick your come out of my cunt.”

Crowley moaned and pressed his tongue flat against the whole of his husband’s sex, then flicked it around until Aziraphale was quivering and swearing above him. 

“ _Inside_ ,” Aziraphale said through heaving breath.

Crowley stuck his tongue out and let Aziraphale fuck himself on it. He moaned around the taste of his own come in his husband’s pussy, and whimpered as it began to make its way down his own throat.

Aziraphale, who didn’t seem to know what he wanted, overwhelmed with the possibilities and the pleasure he’d already received that evening, groaned, “My– My clitoris, Crowley. Lick my clit.”

Crowley was quick to comply. When he fluttered his tongue around Aziraphale’s clit and then started sucking, Aziraphale came with a shout, squirting his pleasure all over Crowley’s face. Crowley licked up as much as he could and dissolved into a litany of desperate moans.

Aziraphale quivered, groaning, and let himself fall to Crowley’s side. “Well, I suppose we ought to switch,” he said after taking a moment to catch his breath.

“Switch?”

“Mm. Would that be alright with you? If I fucked your cunt, dear?”

“Nnh, yeah. S’good. Yeah.”

“Good,” said Aziraphale, already moving to reposition Crowley so that his head was propped up on the pillow. “I want you to watch what I do with your body, Crowley. Even if you can’t feel it, I want you to moan as though you can. Am I clear?”

Crowley swallowed. “Not gonna be a problem,” he said, a small whimper in the back of his throat as Aziraphale trailed a finger down his cheek and neck, then onto the rest of his torso where he no longer had sensation.

“Moan for me,” commanded Aziraphale. Crowley did. Aziraphale smiled and moved down between Crowley’s legs, pressed his tongue flat against the head of his penis, and pushed until the cock shrunk down into a nice, pink clit. He gave it a few licks, then began working his cunt open with his tongue. He grinned when Crowley started whimpering and whining and _moaning_ , already wet despite the fact that he had no feeling there. Still, he _wanted_ to be used, and Aziraphale was growing more and more confident in taking full advantage of that offer.

“Mm,” moaned Aziraphale, licking his lips, as he pulled back and sat up. “I will never tire of the taste of you, dear.” He looked down at his own cunt. “Now, I suppose I ought to grow my cock.” His gaze flicked to Crowley’s as he said, “Watch me, Crowley. Don’t even blink. I want you to watch this. Watch how I change myself in order to get even more pleasure out of you.”

Crowley groaned and kept his eyes on Aziraphale as his clit grew into a cock in his hand. “ _Fuck_ ,” Crowley breathed. “Angel…”

Aziraphale hummed lowly. “It’s a bit soft,” he said, looking down at his sex. “Would you care to help me, dear?” He looked to Crowley with a raised brow and dark eyes. “Take my cock in your mouth and get me ready to fuck you?”

Crowley groaned and attempted to nod, though his neck permitted very little movement. “Fuck– Fuck, yes, please, angel, use my mouth. Fuck. Yes.”

Aziraphale didn’t reposition Crowley’s head this time. He was at the perfect angle to fuck into his mouth, with Aziraphale’s thighs on either side of his head. Crowley gagged and moaned as he took him all the way to the back of his throat, letting Aziraphale fuck his mouth until his cock was hard and dripping pre-come onto Crowley’s eager lips when he pulled back with a sigh.

“Look at that, darling,” cooed Aziraphale, “you did _wonderfully_.” He smiled at Crowley’s subsequent moan, then repositioned himself near the end of the bed and lined himself up at Crowley’s entrance. “I’ll warn you,” he said lowly, “I’ve been told not to hold back.”

And he didn’t. He fucked into Crowley without hesitation, slamming into his husband’s pussy with as much force as he could manage. He fucked Crowley’s limp body into the mattress at a rushed pace, seeking his next orgasm with little desire to draw it out. Crowley had _told_ him to use him for pleasure, to make him _his_ , and Aziraphale was more than happy to do so. Not two minutes later, he was spilling into Crowley’s pussy with a possessive growl. His wings emerged from his back, and his claws, recently manicured but still a bit thicker than his normal nails, pierced the flesh of his husband’s thighs. The scales and horns made themselves seen, too.

When he finally came down from his orgasm and caught his breath, he looked down at Crowley’s legs and let out a small, “ _Oh_ …” He looked back up to Crowley with panic in his black eyes. “I– I didn’t mean to–”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Crowley assured him, “I can’t feel anything, remember?”

“B-but you _will_ ,” said Aziraphale, reining his wings, claws, scales, and horns back in. “Soon you’ll feel it, a-and I–”

“Will heal it if it’s that bad,” Crowley interjected. “Yeah? Not a big deal.”

Aziraphale took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. “A-alright, you’re right. Alright.”

Crowley’s voice was light and comforting when he said, “Come cuddle me, angel. M’starting to notice the cold.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but chuckle as he moved to lie down next to his husband. “I thought you didn’t _like_ to call it cuddling.”

“S’what it is, isn’t it? I’m just calling it what it is.”

“Alright, my dear,” said Aziraphale, reaching down to take Crowley’s hand in his own. He squeezed gently. “Can you feel that?”

“Not really. Not yet. It’s like my hand’s asleep. I can feel the pressure on it, but it’s… I dunno, it’s not specific.” Crowley yawned. “It’s coming back, though, I can tell. I think I’ll be good to move again soon.”

Aziraphale gave a low hum. “But you won’t,” he said, surprising both his husband and _himself_ , really, at his renewed fervor. “You’re going to be a good demon and lie still as I pleasure you. You won’t move a _muscle_ , am I understood?”

Crowley blinked at him a couple times. “Uhh, _yeah_. Yup. Understood.”

“I’ll take your cock in my mouth and wait for you to have enough feeling to be aroused,” said Aziraphale, sitting up and scooting down the bed. “And then I’ll suck you until you come.”

“Don’t have a cock at the moment,” said Crowley absently.

Aziraphale snapped, his heady gaze not leaving Crowley’s as he used a miracle to replace his husband’s cunt with a cock. He cleared his throat. “As I was saying…” He lowered his head to Crowley’s soft cock and took it in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it with a moan. He played with it for a few minutes, until it started to harden in his mouth. He groaned and began sucking harder, his hands flying up to Crowley’s thighs. Before his mind even registered the feeling of blood under his fingers, Crowley hissed and twitched beneath him.

“Fuck– _Eden_ ,” Crowley whimpered.

Aziraphale pulled off of him in a flash, eyes wide with concern. “Oh, Crowley– Your legs… Oh, darling, I–”

“It’s fine, I’m fine, just–” Crowley sucked in a sharp breath and winced. “It hurts more than I thought it would. I don’t even think I could focus on the pleasure, honestly.”

Aziraphale’s heart sank as he looked down at his husband’s bloodied thighs. “Darling, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, angel, I know you didn’t mean to. And normally I’d even be into it, I think, but with the sensation just coming back it’s like it’s more intense or something, and I’d really rather have an intense _orgasm_ than intense, y’know… painful bleeding leg issues.”

Aziraphale looked from Crowley’s legs to his forgiving eyes and back down to his legs again. “Let me…,” he said, then shifted up a bit until he could press gentle, healing kisses to the wounds. He licked away the blood as the claw marks sealed themselves up, leaving smooth, clean skin behind. Aziraphale then peppered Crowley’s legs with kisses until he felt a hand in his hair.

“Hey, you fixed me right up. I’m good, now, yeah?” Crowley said, smiling down at him. “Thank you, angel.”

“I– I’m sorry that I–”

“No apology needed.” Crowley gave him a sincere look. “But I’ll forgive you, anyway, alright?”

Aziraphale melted at the words. Crowley always knew what he needed to hear. “Thank you,” he said.

Crowley nodded, then cleared his throat. “Er, if you wanted to, you know… make me come, now, that’d be… That’d be good.”

Aziraphale exhaled a laugh and dropped his head to Crowley’s leg. “Alright.” He pressed another kiss to the inside of his thigh, then repositioned himself to take him in his mouth.

Crowley sucked in a breath, then groaned, his hand tightening in Aziraphale’s hair before falling to his side. “Sorry, forgot I wasn’t s’posed to move.”

Aziraphale chuckled fondly around his cock, then pulled off to say, “It’s alright. Move if you’d like, dear.”

“No, no,” said Crowley, shaking his head. “We had an _understanding_. I’m not moving.”

Aziraphale smiled and resumed sucking him off, going at it with enthusiastic determination for several minutes before pulling off in favor of taking Crowley in hand so that he could praise him as he came. “Are you close, dear?” he asked. “You are, aren’t you?”

Crowley whined and nodded, clenching his fists before squeezing his eyes shut and forcing his hands to remain still as he’d promised.

“Oh, yes,” said Aziraphale. “You’re _very_ close. Oh, you sweet thing. I bet you just want to buck up into my hand, don’t you?” He picked up the pace at which he was stroking him. Crowley whimpered. “But you’re staying true to your promise, just lying there and taking the pleasure I give you. What a _good_ husband you are.” Another desperate sound from Crowley, and Aziraphale nodded and reached with his other hand to run his fingers through Crowley’s hair. “Yes, that’s it, Crowley,” he said soothingly, “that’s it. Come for me. You’ve been _so_ good, darling, so _wonderful_ , allowing me to take such pleasure in you. Come for me, dearest.”

Crowley did, with a whimper and a sob. He spilled into Aziraphale’s hand and clenched his fists in the bedsheets as he rode out his orgasm.

Aziraphale leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of Crowley’s spent cock, then moved back up the bed to lie next to him. “Thank you,” he said. “For trusting me with,” he gestured broadly with his palm. “Well, you know. All of that. And for giving yourself to me so devotedly.”

Crowley chuckled lightly, still catching his breath. “Absolutely. You can have your way with me any time.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Aziraphale reached up to run his fingers through Crowley’s mussed hair. “Not all of it, anyway. You… you give so much to me, Crowley. You care so tenderly and you know me so well. You _love_ me so well.”

“Well, so do you,” said Crowley. “And thank _you_ , angel. For letting me know you so well. For trusting me enough to tell me what you want.”

“You know you can always do the same, of course,” said Aziraphale. “Tell me what you want, that is.”

Crowley hummed and eyed Aziraphale tenderly. “Well, can I tell you what I want right now?”

“What?”

“You.” Crowley smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “Just you, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee, that sure got sappy for a chapter that contained consensual paralyzation and a good dose of blood kink. Anyway, one chapter left!


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